What Could Go Wrong?
by Mazanti
Summary: What if the Archdemon's essence lives on because a non-warden killed it? What if Alistair exiles himself to the wardens in Jader...and then is made Ferelden's Commander of the Grey? What if Fergus goes to Highever ... and Nathaniel returns to Amaranthine because both are crawling with Orlesians? An AU in the Dragon Age worlds. All belongs to BioWare. I only play in their dollhouse.
1. The End Is Only The Beginning

**The End Is Only The Beginning**

Warden Loghain was supposed to be atop Fort Drakon. He had been ordered to take the killing blow on the Archdemon by the Cousland girl, the self-appointed Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Those were the first two thoughts that entered Loghain's mind as he awoke in a large bloody room with two dead ogres and a decapitated darkspawn emissary. Then, he recalled being picked up by one of the ogres and thrown against a wall.

He shook his head to clear his vision. That was a mistake. The pain that lanced through his skull almost knocked him out again. He would just need to take some time for his head to clear. He had been left behind, obviously. Perhaps, left for dead.

Kayda Cousland chased off Maric's bastard when she gave Loghain the chance to undergo the warden Joining … ironically, at the suggestion of Riordan, an Orlesian Grey Warden. Loghain didn't like speaking ill of the dead — especially a dead man who had literally fallen at his feet after disabling the Archdemon — but Loghain found the invitation a bit too convenient. Was the purpose to embarrass the Hero of the River Dane? Bind him to an organization in the pocket of the Orlesians? Loghain knew for a fact that the First Warden was an Orlesian and that Orlesian chevaliers had been part of the "help" from the Orlesian Grey Wardens.

Or, was the purpose to throw down something so abhorrent to Alistair that he would storm off? Loghain didn't despise Alistair. The boy had just beaten him in single combat. He deserved respect. And, Loghain meant it when he said that he was glad to see something of Maric in Alistair. He just hated how easily manipulated the boy could be … until that last insult drove Alistair away. Unless, that was also a form of manipulation.

Loghain wondered if Maric's boy was now languishing in some Orlesian prison. Alistair wasn't bright enough to have orchestrated everything that took place. Too naive. Howe always thought Alistair and Cousland were lovers, but the way they bickered all the time, Loghain doubted it. In the end, Cousland didn't show Alistair any respect or consideration … other than to get Anora to exile him rather than execute him. An execution may have been more of a mercy.

And, Loghain did survive the Joining. He had things to do. He knew he still had to protect his daughter and his beloved Ferelden. When Loghain awoke after drinking the noxious Joining potion, he could tell Cousland was disappointed that he hadn't just died. Maybe she thought that would have been a more fitting form of justice than Alistair taking Loghain's head on the Landsmeet floor. It wasn't. Historically, Loghain's wouldn't have been the first head to roll during a Landsmeet. Cousland's way was petty and cruel. Just like most of the nobles in Ferelden, Kayda Cousland never got that the word "noble" had two meanings.

Then, at the last moment before the battle to end the Blight, Loghain and Cousland were told of the greatest warden secret: it took a Grey Warden to kill the Archdemon or the beast would simply reform again and again. Bloody warden secrets! It verified what Loghain had been saying all along. It _was_ the wardens' fault Cailan died at Ostagar. And, Alistair would never have deserted if he had known about it.

Loghain had tried to save half the army at Ostagar when failure was assured because Cousland took forever to light the damned signal. It was too late for even a miracle to happen. Even as much of a glory-seeker as Cailan was, he would never have interfered with the wardens if they'd told him. In fact, he likely would have gone back to Denerim in boredom. But then, that schemer Duncan would have lost his ticket to unlimited support from Ferelden's armies. The fool wasted twenty years _not_ recruiting enough wardens and then expected Ferelden soldiers to fill in the manpower. Maybe even planned to recruit the surviving army after they'd contracted Blight-sickness. Even with this damning evidence presented to Cousland, she stuck to her story that everything was Loghain's fault … and he would pay for his "crimes" by being the one to kill the Archdemon.

Slowly, using the overturned and plundered chest next to him, he tried to stand. _Damn wardens would steal gold from Andraste's statue in the Chantry courtyard if they could pry it off,_ he thought to himself. On shaky legs, Loghain made his way toward the open double doors leading up onto the roof. Before he got halfway up the steps, Eamon, Greagoir and Irving caught up to him. With a quick wave of his hand and a few words, Irving healed Loghain's aching head. He didn't miss that Eamon looked like he wanted to just run him through. Loghain returned a sneer that he hoped conveyed, _You can try, old man! _

Then, they ran up the remaining stairs to witness a most chaotic battle, but the dragon _was_ lagging. Loghain took no time to think any longer as he ran toward the Archdemon.

"I thought you were dead!" Kayda Cousland yelled at him. Her winged helmet was missing and she had a gash from hairline to chin that had been healed by magic, but still looked painful. To her credit, the girl was still up and fighting.

"Disappointed?" Loghain swung his sword at a wound already started on the the dragon's front leg. He knew he'd severed the already weakened tendon. The beast was already grounded by a wide tear in its wing, Riordan's gift to Ferelden before he plunged to his death. At least now, with an unusable tendon, the Archdemon was also immobile to this spot.

Unfortunately, the dragon could still breathe flame. "Get behind my shield!" Loghain shouted at Kayda. They both crushed together as the dragon spit its nasty purple flame at them. Bits of arms and legs got singed, but they were spared the brunt of the fire. "Takes more to kill me than an ogre using me as a rock, Warden," he said in the moments it took to wait out the blast. "I said I would take out this beast and I will."

Loghain could barely see her face, but he caught her rolling her eyes. "I wish you'd had this sense of honor all along, you bastard."

The blast ended and they took up the battle once again. Loghain banged his shield to draw the dragon's attention onto him while Cousland skirted around and went for the more vulnerable spots. "And, I suppose it was honorable for Duncan to keep all these bloody secrets from me and Cailan? This could have ended long ago."

"He had his reasons, Loghain. No doubt you would have turned it all around to sound like Duncan was lying to you anyway. It was y_our_ misplaced paranoia kept us from ending this long ago." Kayda flicked her eyes toward the rump of the dragon. After hamstringing one of the back legs, the dragon sat and that's when she jumped up on the tail and tried to balance herself by straddling the ridge of vertical plates that ran all the way to the back of the skull. "You never listen unless you're the one doing the talking!" she shouted.

"At least I can trust what I hear when I'm doing the talking," Loghain mumbled, realizing Cousland was too far away to hear him. Several arrows whizzed by Loghain's head. Magic was also sizzling nearby. He knew Cousland, now on the dragon's back, would have no idea when the dragon was almost dead, so he took it upon himself to watch the beast carefully. When Cousland was halfway up the back, the dragon dropped. Its sides were still moving. The Archdemon was breathing, so it was still alive … but it was spent. "Everyone stop your attacks!" Loghain bellowed.

"What?! No! Not yet! Keep firing! Keep up the magic!" Cousland countered … and, as if to demonstrate that it agreed with Cousland, the dragon arched its neck and forcefully bucked her off … right into Loghain. They both tumbled to a stop near the edge of the tower roof and away from the dragon. The Archdemon's head fell to the stone after that effort drained it of any remaining strength. In horror, Loghain watched a volley of Dalish arrows hit the dragon at the same time as a powerful lightning bolt of magic. The dragon died.

"Bloody idiot girl!" Loghain yelled at Cousland as a blinding bright light left the beast. At its death, neither Grey Warden was closer to the dragon than a hurlock who had run up to help defend its master.

Before anyone could attack the hurlock, a circle of force left the dragon and knocked everyone down … everyone but the hurlock. Hardly able to focus, Loghain saw the hurlock run toward one of the auxiliary exits to the roof, surrounded by a protection detail of other darkspawn. Before anyone was able to make a move, the hurlock was gone.

The Archdemon was _not_ dead.

* * *

"My lady! Your … Your Majesty, you must go with the guards to the safe room!" Erlina was shouting at Anora. Not a common thing for Erlina to do, but then, the poor girl was terrified.

Anora continued to strap on her armor. Not the ceremonial armor. The real armor that had been constructed specifically to Anora's specifications and enchanted by First Enchanter Irving himself. All done without the knowledge of her father who would likely be dead soon. Anora buried that thought immediately. There was no time for whining or hand-wringing anymore. The enemy had brought its fight to the palace doorstep. "You go to the safe room, Erlina. I'm not going to sit by while the darkspawn try to take over my country and kill my people."

Captain Corger Baines — the guard Anora's father hand-picked to see that no harm came to the Queen — shook his head. "You should listen to her, Your Majesty."

"Did you not hear what I just said?!" Anora was frustrated that the leggings no longer fit and threw them on the rug. Everything was too big. At that moment, Anora despaired of not eating all those months that led up to this horrible outcome. She'd lost too much weight to wear this armor.

"I did, Your Majesty, but my statement stands." He was being kind, not the brusque and uncultured manner of most of the guards in the palace lately. Rendon Howe and her father had replaced most of the polite guards with men loyal to Howe and Mac Tir and not Theirin. The look on Baines' face was sympathetic, but committed to not allowing her … his Queen … to do any fighting. He smiled as he picked up the leggings. "After this is over, I will see that these are refitted, Your Majesty. For now, please join me …" A crossbow bolt in his throat stopped him from saying any more.

Anora tried to reach for her sword lying on the bed, but was stopped by a voice, an Orlesian voice, and the hand attached to it. "Your Majesty, I am not here to harm you." It was a chevalier who stepped into the door. He released her when one of his men took away Anora's sword. Then, he held up his hands to show that he was unarmed; however, there were several armed men in the hallway beyond along with a number of dead palace guards on the floor. One of the Orlesian men had a loaded crossbow up, even though it wasn't aimed at her. "I am Ser Adalard, Royal Captain of Her Radiance Empress Celene, and I am here to take you to safety. Her Radiance wishes to put you up in safety in Jader until this Blight is over." He handed Anora a rolled parchment. It did not escape Anora's attention that Erlina didn't seem to be frightened any longer. She walked over to where the wide bedpost and heavy draping would spoil any shot the bowman would make in her direction. She opened the parchment.

_Queen Anora of the Kingdom of Ferelden,_

_I have enjoyed our correspondence over the years and feel confident that you will come to appreciate what I am doing for you. The darkspawn threat is real and you have been betrayed by all around you there. You know that I understand betrayal better than most._

_I also know that you abhor The Game and prefer plain speaking, so I shall be blunt. Your father was right in that the Ferelden wardens betrayed your country. However, it was by their incompetence and not malicious in nature. The few who remain there are untrained and unskilled. And lastly, to put it simply, your father betrayed you by not allowing the chevaliers to help as we had arranged. Your city will fall. Your country will fall. To the darkspawn. Not to Orlais._

_Once the border guards were called away, three battalions of chevaliers entered Ferelden. They are now guarding Highever and Amaranthine against the darkspawn. The third battalion waits to see you safely to Denerim's docks and on to Jader. The reports my chevaliers have sent me are grim. City after city they came upon was destroyed or in a panic. Darkspawn control the Bannorn and farming will be impossible for decades. In short, no one in Orlais has any interest in Ferelden any longer._

_There is no reason for you to die, Your Majesty. Go with my men. They will see you safely to Jader. You can rule what is left of Ferelden from there. Orlais pledges her assistance to you, the rightful ruler of Ferelden, and no one else._

_Celene_

Anora's first thought was,_ If I'd only listened to Father! _Anora rolled up the parchment and handed it back to the chevalier. "I respectfully decline Her Radiance's offer of refuge and assistance."

The chevalier frowned, but he took the parchment and slid it back under his breastplate. "I see. Her Radiance bade me to protect you, Your Majesty, even if you resist." He nodded to several of the men behind him. "This should have gone more smoothly."

Anora had nowhere to run as the men grabbed her and held a cloth over her mouth and nose. Her vision started to blur, as the leader turned toward Erlina and said, "Your services are no longer required." Then, Anora saw the crossbowman aim at a surprised Erlina and fire. That was the last thing she saw.

* * *

**AN:** This idea came to me the day after I posted the last chapter of _What Have We Here_. It was further bolstered after I finished reading, "The Masked Empire". I'll keep my opinion of that book to myself. ;) I give the usual disclaimer … all of this belongs to BioWare, even the bits I make up since it's all housed in their wonderful playground of Thedas.

This is a pretty dark AU. The title should give you a clue of the basic question: What if some things _did_ go wrong? I will try to post something every Sunday, but it may become every other Sunday because of another project I'm working on.


	2. Paranoia Justified, Trust Shattered

**Paranoia Justified, Trust Shattered**

Loghain walked to the edge of the rooftop. Gratefully, the darkspawn were withdrawing. The men and women below were cheering because they were unaware of the wardens' muck up … that's when he saw the Orlesian chevaliers running for the entrance to the tower, slaughtering anyone who got in their way. _What are they doing here?! _he thought to himself. He turned to those left on the roof. "Chevaliers are entering below! Our fighting isn't over yet!"

Of course, Cousland didn't believe him and had to look herself. "We're wardens, Loghain," she mumbled very unconvincingly.

"Anora," Loghain whispered, ignoring the implication of what Cousland was saying. He spun on her. "This is my Ferelden, Cousland! You can hide behind your warden neutrality if you so desire, but I cannot."

She only looked at him for a moment. "I know." She looked down again, scratched the blood-spattered ear of her mabari, Nemesis, and then sighed. "Neither can I." She turned and punched him on the arm. Hard. "If you hadn't destroyed the Bannorn and let your _best friend_ devastate Highever, they wouldn't have been able to just march right in!"

Loghain took her shoulders and shook her. "Make sense, woman!"

She shrugged out of Loghain's grasp and shoved him back. "I had been left in charge of Highever, Loghain! If your _friend_ Howe hadn't _destroyed_ the castle at Highever and killed everyone … _everyone_ … someone would have been around to stop any Orlesian ships from landing at Highever!" She pointed east. "They're coming from the docks! I have no doubt they're coming through Amaranthine and Highever, too," she spat in his face.

Zevran, known for a bit of subtlety … but not tonight, walked up along with several Dalish archers. "I respectfully submit that the two of you can have a pissing contest at another time." That made Oghren laugh. Loghain didn't know the elf very well, other than he'd failed when Loghain had hired him to kill this raving woman in front of him.

Loghain grabbed Zevran's shoulder. "You! You go find out what's going on with my daughter." He looked around. "Take the bard with you. If …_when_ you find her, take her to safety immediately!"

He wanted to slap the elf when he glanced toward Cousland for confirmation. Kayda nodded. Zevran and Leliana left immediately.

Cousland blew out a forceful breath. "Good idea, they can get around the advancing chevaliers." Then, she looked at the Dalish. She recognized several of them from Zathrian's clan, including Keeper Lanaya and the hunter Mithra. "This isn't the fight you signed on for."

Lanaya looked at Loghain. "We Dalish remember the rebellion and the Orlesian chevaliers deserve no respect or indifference from the Dalish. It is a fight we can sign on for."

Surprisingly, Kayda turned to Loghain. "This isn't a warden fight. This is your battle to lead, Loghain."

Even though he didn't need her approval, he appreciated it, nonetheless. "Archers! Take cover and pick off any chevaliers that show their faces at that door!" Loghain pointed to the double doors he had just run through. He noticed Eamon already heading for the auxiliary door. "Everyone else! We take the auxiliary exit to the ground floor. Once we're out and the chevaliers are cowering behind the doors, archers follow us! The last ones through the auxiliary door, disable it! Block it somehow so the enemy has to go back down the main passages!" A final thought hit him. "If you can, give them reason to think I'm dead." With that he turned and followed in the path of the now-long-gone archdemon-souled hurlock … and Eamon Guerrin.

The Orlesians in Fort Drakon probably had no idea about the layout. Loghain doubted that many of the front-line chevaliers had ever been to Ferelden. Their leaders here, on the other hand, were likely men and women Loghain had faced before. They would probably be at the palace, trying to establish authority over the city. Loghain didn't want to think about what they would do to Ferelden's Queen.

Loghain, Cousland, the companions and most of the Dalish made it to the bottom of the tower in good time. The auxiliary door led to a long staircase down while the other path down entailed knowing which chambers to cross and which to ignore. With Cousland's help, Loghain stopped by an armory on the bottom floor and quickly traded his plate for reinforced leathers and a dark cloak, trading his large shield for a smaller unmarked one.

They had to creep through one of Howe's torture rooms and Kayda thought she saw Ser Gilmore, a knight from Highever, on one of the racks. It turned out to be this Gilmore's brother, but she shot Loghain a look that said she blamed him for the death. Loghain got the message loud and clear. But, he also trusted she would do her duty … for now. Later, he'd have to watch for her. He knew she felt guilty about chasing Alistair off. She might just try to complete Loghain's execution.

One of the chevalier leaders was in the tower's captain's office. "The darkspawn have left this city a complete loss, Fabien. Such a pity! This used to be my post a few years ago. The Empress wishes us to leave it once the Queen is on her way to Jader, but it would be so easy to take!"

Fabien replied, "Bah, the darkspawn have left us nothing to take, _le Général_."

Kayda had to put a restraining hand on Loghain's shoulder. Cousland was right, of course, they needed to get out of there, save Anora and organize the defense outside. But, Loghain really wanted to see the life leave the eyes of Fabien and his superior.

Loghain's group was able to detour through a storeroom and out a side door. "Wish I'd known about this door a few weeks ago," Cousland mumbled once they were safely outside.

"Too bad your father always protected you from the uglier parts of running a country." As soon as he said it, he knew it was over the top. Her murderous glare confirmed that. "That was uncalled for. I apologize."

Loghain spotted Teagan leading a group of men trying to push back a large group of Orlesians. Eamon was leaving through the gate. Loghain filed away the question: Did the chevaliers just let Eamon walk through their lines? The golem, Shale, was fighting with Teagan.

Kayda turned toward Loghain. "They're outnumbered. Go find Anora." She turned to the companions and the Dalish. "Wynne, go with Loghain in case your talents are needed at the palace. Civilians will head there for safety and news. If the Chantry is lost, they'll come to the palace for medical help. Oghren, Sten, with me." The mabari gave a small bark. "You, too, Nemesis." Before she stepped away, she paused and glared back at Loghain, "If that's all right with you, Loghain."

"Half the archers stay with Cousland and pick off the chevaliers as best you can in the melee. Aim for the neck. The seam at the top of the arm is also good if you can flank and shoot from behind them. The others of you with me." He looked at Lanaya. "You can decide if that's a good move."

Lanaya nodded and, in elvhen, quickly gave the order. "I'll stay here to keep the fighters up."

He touched Cousland's shoulder. "Maker protect you."

He could tell that surprised her. "Ma … Maker protect us all." Then, she turned to the group going with her. Her archers had already fanned out to take positions around Fort Drakon's courtyard. Loghain didn't stop to see how they fared. He needed to find his daughter.

* * *

Alistair paced outside the Jader Warden-Commander's office. He had been betrayed by Kayda Cousland, a woman he thought was his friend … even though she'd denied his desire to be more than friends. Loghain would become a hero fighting beside Kayda and people would forget he was the evil bastard who had tried to get her assassinated. And, what happened to Eamon? Loghain had tried to poison him! When Kayda denied Alistair the throne and Anora threatened to execute him, did Eamon suddenly become mute? Or, had Eamon just lost his puppet so he no longer cared. _Eamon was likely already scheming about how he could influence Anora, _Alistair fumed to himself.

Alistair had to begrudge that the only reason he stood there was because Kayda called in a boon to force Anora into exiling him instead of executing him. These "noble" men and women had interfered with every effort of Duncan's to organize Ferelden to fight the darkspawn and now Ferelden was paying the price. Alistair wasn't proud of how he departed that day, at the end of the Landsmeet. Walking away from the Grey Wardens and his duty was wrong. They had been organizing to leave for Redcliffe where they were to join the warden's allies and present a united front against the darkspawn. But, there was no way he could stay. Alistair had finally had enough.

Anora authorized twenty sovereigns be given to him, along with his belongings, but he had to leave behind Cailan's golden armor. _Good riddance. Let Loghain wear it, _Alistair thought. Kayda told him to take the armor they'd found in the werewolf ruins. Alistair almost turned that down, too, but he had to have something to wear. He was surprised that no one insisted that he return Maric's sword or Duncan's shield. Maybe they forgot about them.

Riordan mentioned he had come from Jader … so that's where Alistair headed after being escorted to the docks from the Landsmeet. He told the Landsmeet that he was leaving the Grey Wardens, but he quickly rethought that, as he was escorted out of the palace. The Grey Wardens were in his blood, literally. He just refused to be a Ferelden Grey Warden and be forced to fight beside a man responsible for killing so many — Grey Wardens, a king, civilians, elves, dwarves, nobles, the list was lengthy. Much too lengthy for "a chance for redemption", in Alistair's estimation. And, they all screamed out for the justice that had been denied.

_No_, he decided to himself, _I will go to Jader and try to find help from real Grey Wardens… something I should have done right away. Whether she admitted or not, Kayda was going to need it._ The guards waited until Alistair found a ship to Jader and it shoved off. Truth be told, he was surprised that no one tried to kill him before he got to the docks. He'd tried to get drunk on board the ship, but the rough sea pretty much left him with the same kind of upset. He went straight to warden headquarters when he landed … and could walk upright again.

"Come in, Warden." A tall, handsome man with a Nevarran accent opened the door and bid Alistair to take a seat in a chair in front of his desk. "I am Jader Warden-Commander Alman. Please tell me what you know."

"Do you want the entire story or just the last few weeks first?" Alistair was surprised that a Nevarran was the Warden-Commander in Jader. Considering the ongoing war between Nevarra and Orlais, Alistair expected the commander to be an Orlesian.

"You have come all the way from Ferelden to talk to me … why not start at the beginning?" The man nodded at two wardens who had come into the office with Alistair. They left.

"It all started in Ostagar …" From there Alistair told of how Duncan had been betrayed by Loghain Mac Tir. He described meeting Kayda Cousland in camp and told Alman about the horrific tale she told about the murder of her family. After telling him about Flemeth handing over the ancient warden treaties, Alman asked a lot of questions. He'd heard the legend of Flemeth as well. When Alistair explained that Flemeth had rescued him and Kayda from atop the Tower of Ishal, Alman had even more questions about Flemeth.

About that time, Alman ordered lunch in for the two of them and Alistair continued next with the debacle in Redcliffe. Here he also explained his Theirin birthright to Alman in much the same way he had to Kayda. Kayda had gotten angry that day. Alman just nodded, like he knew already, likely from a report from Duncan. When no questions came about his parentage, Alistair continued … they traveled to the Circle of Magi to find mages. They needed to perform a ritual that would allow a mage to enter the Fade and kill the demon possessing Connor. Only, they were drawn into clearing the tower of demons. Their assistance along with the treaty assured the mages help with the darkspawn.

Then, they returned to Redcliffe and freed Connor. However, Arl Eamon, a noble they hoped to rely on for assistance, was deathly ill. So, based on information found in Denerim at Brother Genitivi's home, they went to a small village in western Ferelden, ultimately finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Alistair could tell Alman was very interested, but the Commander didn't interrupt there. They were allowed to take a pinch to save Eamon. And, the Ashes worked. Brother Genitivi was going to go back with other Chantry scholars and study the temple where they found the Ashes.

Next, Alistair told about the trip to secure the treaty with the Dalish. By the time the tale of the werewolves and the spirit was finished, it was near dinner … and Alman was beginning to look angry. He sent off to have a meal delivered. After it arrived, he poured Alistair a glass of wine. "If I may interrupt yet again, I need to make certain I am hearing all details." At Alistair's nod, he asked, "It was only the two of you who were wardens … untrained wardens … and a small group of companions crossing Ferelden?"

"Yes, Warden-Commander, it was only the two of us." Alistair gratefully took several large bites of a very tasty stew.

"And, there had only been a handful of wardens at Ostagar?" Alman stood and paced.

Alistair nodded. "I'm sorry I don't know the exact number. We were never all together at the same place. Duncan had some out on patrol at various times and there were some at the compound in Denerim. Although, the ones I saw in Denerim were the ones who went with us to Ostagar."

Alman looked at Alistair thoughtfully and seemed to make a decision. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of parchments. "This is a report I found in the previous Commander's desk from Warden-Commander Duncan. I'm having it copied before I send it on to the First Warden. Can you verify the contents for me?"

While waving his hand, Alistair grinned. "I'm sure if Duncan reported it, it's all more accurate than my memory."

"Indulge me, Alistair, please." He handed the parchments to Alistair.

After swallowing one last bite of stew and following it with a long drink of wine, Alistair wiped his hands on his napkin and started to read. He could feel his eyes widen and his face flush as he read the report. It said that Duncan had 1,358 wardens in Ferelden covering compounds in Denerim, a remodeled Soldier's Peak that the First Warden had just sent him funds to rebuild, a small outpost in Orzammar and a permanent base at Ostagar … underwritten by a grateful Ferelden.

"I take it by your silence and your face that the report is false?" Alman sat and started drumming his fingers on the table.

"I … well … Maker, yes, most of it … or maybe it was true before he recruited me and something had happened?" Alistair said in a pleading tone that he knew sounded like he was grasping at straws. Alistair hadn't even told Alman yet about clearing out the skeletons and demons from Soldier's Peak. That was going to be first up in his story after dinner. He flipped back to the start. The date was recent … and after Duncan had died. He shook his head. Then, he realized … it was _not_ Duncan's handwriting. "Warden-Commander, this is dated long after Duncan died at Ostagar. I traveled with Duncan for a while and spent a good deal of time reading through Duncan's notes." Alistair threw down the parchments. "That report is not in Duncan's hand."

Alman frowned. "Curious. I am new here. Warden-Commander Étienne was … reassigned. For now, let's set this aside until I can look into it."

Alistair didn't miss Alman's hesitation, but decided to file it away for another time. So, he continued, "We followed Levi Dryden to discover Soldier's Peak …" After going into all the gory details of that endeavor, he moved on to Orzammar. Once again, in order to get the dwarves to support the wardens, they had to help the dwarves first. The treaty had been signed by a king and their current king had just died. Two factions were vying for the throne. Kayda argued that the royal line should be maintained and so they had supported Bhelen … even after Alistair pointed out that Steward Bandelor told them blood wasn't the most important guide to choosing a dwarf king. And, besides, Alistair thought Harrowmont was a lot nicer.

"Of course she would argue that," Alman mumbled. At a questioning look, he just gestured for Alistair to continue.

"We were sent into the Deep Roads …" The tale made Alman sit up in interest when Alistair got to the part where they saw the Archdemon outside Bownamar. He had a number of questions about that before he asked Alistair to continue on. The bits about Branka and the Anvil of the Void didn't seem to interest Alman nearly as much as the part where Kayda was given the choice to pick the next king of Orzammar. Alistair was beginning to pick up that Alman knew the Cousland name from somewhere and didn't like them.

As the candles in the office began to gutter in the late night hours, Alistair finished up his tale with the worst part for him … the part where he thought he might be executed for desertion. "And, after Riordan offered to give Loghain the Joining and Kayda accepted … I … I refused to stand with any organization that would have Loghain as a member. And, of course, I refused to bend knee to the daughter of Loghain. As a result, Queen Anora wanted to execute me, but Kayda argued for exile. So, I was put on a ship to a place of my choice. I chose to come here and report to you … and surrender myself to you for judgement."

"To put your mind at ease, Alistair, I see no desertion in a case where a Ferelden warden went directly to a nearby post in order to report." Alman stood and paced again. He pointed to the report, now shuffled and disorganized on top of the table. "Because of that report, we all thought Duncan had a sufficient number of wardens to at least begin the fight … and was still alive. The First Warden asked Duncan if he wanted any assistance. Duncan … or whoever was reporting in Duncan's stead … turned him down, saying that an arrangement had been made with Orlais to send chevaliers to bolster Ferelden's army." He shrugged.

"Wait … Duncan said that Orlais was also sending wardens." Alistair frowned. "Let me guess … someone said that he didn't need the Orlesian wardens."

Alman sighed. "I know my heritage colors my perceptions, and you may think me on par with Loghain, but it sounds like someone was more interested in getting chevaliers into Ferelden than in defeating the Blight … and they wanted us to think it was Duncan." When Alistair only sat in stunned silence, Alman asked, "Tell me, Alistair, after all this, do you still feel loyalty to Ferelden?"

Alistair sighed and rubbed his face. "I know we're supposed to set aside any titles and allegiances, Commander, but there are still good people in Ferelden, people who don't deserve to die from an unchecked Blight."

Alman smiled. "It is late, Warden, and we are both spent after all this. We have quarters here for you. Take a few days off. The Mélange, a tavern about a block away, is one where wardens of all nationalities are treated well. Or, if you prefer, we have a fairly good library here. You may wish to study some of the official history of the Grey Wardens." He took out a ring of keys and opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a rather thick tome. "This book holds our reasons for existence." He put it next to Alistair. "Something you should have had access to long ago. Do not leave it laying about and get it back to me as soon as you've read through it. If I hear any news from Ferelden, I'll be sure to let you know."

Alistair nodded as he picked up the tome. "Thank you, Warden-Commander."

He was shown to a small room on an upper floor. It had a narrow bed, a creaky chest with its key lying on the top, a washstand and a window overlooking the courtyard into the warden compound. The full moon's light was streaming through the window, so Alistair really didn't even need to light the lantern beside the bed. He dumped his meager belongings and the book into his chest and locked it.

Then, after slipping the key on the chain of his Warden amulet, he just stood at the window. His mind was spinning. Plots upon plots upon plots. The Orlesians _had_ been using the Blight to get a foothold in Ferelden … and using Orlesian wardens to do it, dragging Duncan's good name through the mud. Loghain would laugh his ass off when he found out.

Tonight, the only laughter Alistair heard came from outside in the streets. Arguments and all the sounds of a city starting to close down for the night also alerted him to the late hour. Alistair wondered how they were fairing in Ferelden and if he'd ever see his country again.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you so much for all reviews, favorites and follows!

_ChaoticHarmony1991_, welcome and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Thank you for your review!

_Enchantm3nt_, welcome and thanks for your review! Lots of speculation on what happens when the Archdemon is able to send its essence into another darkspawn. After all, the First Blight was sooooo long ago. This is just my take on it. ;)

_TheGoldman_, welcome! Ah, incompetence! It does make for a juicy story sometimes, does it not? ;) Thank you for your kind words!


	3. The Game's Afoot

**The Game's Afoot**

It took a long time to reach the Palace. Orlesians were everywhere. "Cousland was right. There must be a battalion in the city and that means there must be at least ten ships in the harbor that brought them in while Denerim burned," Loghain growled.

"At least, the chaos is working in our favor now, Loghain." Wynne nodded toward the group of Maric's Shield pushing the chevaliers back from the gates. "Do you think we can get past them?"

Mithra whispered, "If someone can show us to your docks, we can set fire to any ship with chevaliers boarding."

"Wait until we find out whether Anora is on one of those ships or not." He sighed. "Although, seeing every fancy flag out there burn would hold a great deal of pleasure for me."

"Then, we will follow you and provide covering fire if necessary." Mithra frowned, even more than usual. "Creators, I hate these stone walls that keep you blind."

"The courtyard is darkest on this side and there's a smaller entry door on this side of the gate for use when the heavy iron gates are closed. We'll go in the small door if we can." Loghain held as long as his patience could stomach and prayed to the Maker it was long enough. Then, the group edged toward the door, which was already off its hinges. Loghain's heart sank when he saw the thick double doors that protected the entry chamber of the Palace. One door remained. The other was smashed in. Since there were also three ogre corpses in the courtyard, Loghain assumed it was the darkspawn who were responsible for defeating the defenses of the Palace and not the Orlesians … although neither option held any hope for Anora's safety.

Just as Loghain was about to slip into the shadows, a horn sounded and the chevaliers started retreating. Loghain took a chance and ran for a welcome friendly face. "Cauthrien! Do they have Anora?!"

Cauthrien nodded toward Zevran and Leliana helping Corger Baines out of the destroyed palace doors along with several palace guardsmen. "They were headed in to look for her. I sent men with them to show them the way while we kept the chevaliers busy."

Leliana arrived first to Loghain's side. "They have the Queen, Loghain!"

Cauthrien motioned to the men around her. "To the docks! No fires! Aid the soldiers keeping the chevaliers from their ships! Search any ship we can for the Queen!"

Baines was barely conscious. "I failed, Your Grace." His voice was strained, barely a whisper, and Loghain noticed the tight bandage around his throat.

Loghain turned to the mage with him. Wynne never made any effort to hide her distaste for Kayda's decision to spare Loghain and exile Alistair. From what Loghain overheard in camp on the way to and from Redcliffe, the elderly mage was Alistair's biggest supporter. The only thing that made things somewhat bearable was that Wynne didn't like Kayda much better right now, either. "Wynne, can you help him?"

Wynne nodded as they lowered him to the ground.

"Her maid Erlina is dead and the Queen's armor lies unused in her bedroom. Many palace guard also lie dead," Zevran added. "This man was barely alive. The high rear armor slowed the bolt. It missed the arteries but got him in the larynx."

Loghain knelt close to Baines. "Did you hear anything else, Baines?" Of course, that question garnered a severe look from Wynne.

Baines grabbed Loghain's arm. "Not dead … gave her sleeping draught … Jader," was all he said before he lost consciousness. Loghain returned Wynne's glare.

"He will live, Loghain, but he will never be able to shout orders again." Wynne then turned to the business of seeing that the man would indeed live.

Some men would not find that a mercy, but Baines would work around it. It was why Loghain charged him with protecting his daughter. Loghain stood and faced Leliana and Zevran. "I'll find us a ship. Gather your things and meet me on the docks. The three of us are going to Jader." He grabbed Zevran's arm. "Do not fail me again, Crow."

Zevran deftly pulled his arm from Loghain's grasp. Without his usual smirk, the elf growled in return, "I didn't fail you the last time, Loghain. I failed Howe." Then, his smirk returned. "It was his contract that I took, not yours. Did you know that Howe included your assassination after the Archdemon was killed? I'd watch my back if I were you. All Kayda has to do is remove her protection on you."

Leliana stepped between Loghain and Zevran. "There's no time for this! Come Zevran. We need to rescue the Queen and then figure out everything else." She turned to Loghain. "You still have much to answer for, Loghain, but your daughter will not receive any retribution from me for all the things you have done. I swear it." She glared at Zevran.

After a long moment's pause, Zevran said, "I swear it, too."

Wynne looked up from her work. "Loghain, as much as I'd like to see you leave, you can't. The army listens to you and someone has to bring order back to Denerim and Ferelden."

"She is right, Loghain. Part of your penance will be trusting me and Zevran to go alone to save the Queen." Her voice got lower, more convincing. "You know, it is what Anora would want."

"Your self-righteous prattle during all this was that you were protecting Ferelden." Just Loghain's luck that Kayda had to run up during this conversation. "So, make sure there's something for Anora to rule over when she gets back. Fort Drakon is secure. They all left when the horn blew." Kayda nodded to Leliana and Zevran. "Is Isabella still in port or did she leave when the fighting broke out?"

Zevran shrugged. "She usually wisely bolts when such things as an Archdemon attack breaks out, but she may be waiting around to see if we need a quick escape." He grinned at Kayda. "She's good about that."

Loghain had to admit the girl was knowledgeable and resourceful. He pulled a pouch from his waist and pulled off his belt, removing a wrapped sack of coins from a compartment inside the belt. He handed the money to Kayda. "There should be plenty of sovereigns there to pay passage to Jader on any ship."

She handed the coins to Leliana. "Maker go with you both."

Loghain watched the two leave. It distressed him to put his daughter's fate into the hands of an Orlesian bard and an Antivan Crow, but they were loyal to Cousland. He had no doubt about that. Loghain would just have to hope they would honor their vow. He turned to look at the palace. Civilians were already crowding the courtyard, asking questions, asking for family members. He turned to Kayda. "Warden-Commander, I officially request a leave of absence."

* * *

Flemeth laughed at the surprised look on Morrigan's face as she landed and reformed into her pretty self. "Disappointed to see me alive, girl? That was all _very_ dramatic, Morrigan … sending your new friends here to try to kill me." The crotchety old woman known as Flemeth stripped off the bark from a young tree and threw the bark bits into a pot of boiling liquid.

Morrigan frowned. "'Tis disappointing to discover my 'friends' betrayed me." She threw down the grimoire that Flemeth had traded to avoid a fight with Kayda Cousland. "Clever to scramble all the information so that book was useless … even if they'd kept their word and defeated you." She threw her backpack down and sat on a nearby stool. "But, I find I am no longer surprised by much."

"Excellent! So, you've learned at least one thing in your travels." Flemeth didn't look up from her task as she skinned a large rat and threw the bloody, furred skin into the pot. "I take it, since you're here, they also denied the ritual."

"Wretched noble bitch. I hope the Archdemon eats her whole." The dark-haired beauty broke off a small limb of the debarked tree and started to chew on it. "She listened to everything I offered, made me think she was interested … and then ended with telling me that she _wanted_ Loghain to die. I wish you hadn't crafted the ritual to require her involvement. It may have been easier to just force Loghain to capitulate."

"It cannot be forced, girl … and I crafted it for Maric's bastard. I'm not even certain it would have worked with anyone else." Flemeth glared at her daughter. "Something I told you many times." Several pungent herbs soon followed the rat pelt. "What of Alistair?"

"Ran off … or was exiled … or both. Said he could never fight alongside someone like Loghain." Morrigan shrugged. "I know not where the fool is now."

Flemeth turned and gave Morrigan a smile. "So, it turns out that Alistair had more integrity in him than Cousland after all." The smile turned into a cackle. "Loghain quit the field and Cailan was killed. Then, he was supposed to kill the Archdemon and failed. Maric will be disappointed that I was so right about his 'best friend'."

"He failed?" Morrigan suddenly showed a great deal of interest. "What have you seen?"

"Urthemiel is still available to us, girl. Both Cousland and Loghain failed. The essence of the Archdemon will lay low for a year or so and then return." She strode over to where Morrigan sat. Flemeth backhanded her so hard that the young witch fell off the stool. "You had one job to do! Now, we're going to have to deal with a host of wardens, thanks to your failure. We lose our perfect situation of having to influence only a few wardens." Flemeth turned back to the pot and poured in a dark red liquid. "Go fix me something to eat."

As Morrigan slinked off to start dinner and nurse her stinging cheek, Flemeth settled down to stare at the steam coming from the boiling cauldron, deeply inhaling the fumes, allowing the visions to form in the thick vapors.

As far as Flemeth knew, she was the only mage to ever turn the proverbial possession tables on a powerful demon. All it took was a strong will, nothing left to live for and a void filled with anger and vengence where a heart used to beat. Was the darkspawn with Urthemiel's soul still under Ferelden or had it moved elsewhere? Flemeth wasn't told by the pride demon Hybris how the Archdemon would reform from a darkspawn. Unfortunately, Hybris was destroyed during the ritual and no longer existed to ask. Would the darkspawn vessel simply stretch and grow into a tainted dragon … or would the darkspawn just find another high dragon to taint and inhabit?

Tomorrow, she would need to find where Alistair had gone. Flemeth once told Maric that his son would end the Blight. The fool didn't realize she was referring to his bastard. If Alistair had been there, this would all be over and Morrigan would be preparing to birth a child with the soul of an Old God. A girl who would bring beauty to this ugly world … stunning magnificence from glorious chaos. And, a new vessel for Flemeth to possess.

But now, everything was unclear.

Initially, Flemeth planned to leave Morrigan as she was, another powerful witch to help Yavana at The Silent Grove. Now, because of this final disappointment, Flemeth knew she needed to take Morrigan. Tomorrow, she would start to train the girl to shapeshift into a dragon and then, in a few more months to a year, Flemeth would possess Morrigan and return to aid the wardens when the Archdemon arose again. Flemeth despised the prospect of going through the pregnancy herself, but she couldn't risk losing again. There would be no more failures.

* * *

Eamon still had a difficult time reaching his Denerim estate, but the chevaliers had cleared the way for the man with a white feather tied to his armor. The darkspawn had already fled. Eamon was uncertain as to what should have spelled the end of the Archdemon, but he could tell, that what happened wasn't it. To add to his frustration, Eamon was supposed to be alerted before the chevaliers landed in Denerim, but the first news he had of it was when Loghain noticed them below Fort Drakon.

_Loghain. The man's head would surely roll for this failure_, Eamon fumed internally as he made his way through the destruction that would have to be rebuilt. It should be simple enough to lay all this at the feet of Loghain. Thanks to the seething temper of Kayda Cousland, almost all of the Landsmeet had already turned against the Hero of the River Dane. He was confident that he could convince the girl to remain quiet when Loghain's execution was brought up at the Landsmeet. But, he had to be careful and not rush. He had some time. Nothing had to be immediate. As long as the Empress got her prize.

Loghain had unwittingly thwarted Eamon's plan with Cailan, but Alistair was still alive somewhere. Eamon thought to send Teagan to find him as soon as they re-grouped at Redcliffe. All was not lost to put his Theirin heir on the throne. His pawn. Even after everything Eamon had put Alistair through, the boy was easy enough to influence. Eamon could easily get the nobles organized and rallied behind Alistair once this immediate crisis was over, especially if it meant the chevaliers would leave peacefully. Once he received word of Anora's unfortunate death at the hands of a Nevarran assassin, he would offer Alistair in marriage to Celene in return for Ferelden independence. Ferelden would be too weak to aid in Orlais' war with Nevarra, but they would become Orlais' ally, protected by Orlais from any further Nevarran expansion.

It was unfortunate to make an enemy of Nevarra, but it was necessary to further Eamon's personal goals. Eamon would be a hero of diplomacy and the man who would move Alistair around the chessboard of The Game. Maker bless Isolde for training him so well in the The Game's proper strategies. Too bad his son Connor was locked in the Circle Tower, but having a powerful, well-trained mage for a son could be an advantage in the years to come.

Awaiting Eamon in his study was a sealed message from Ser Adalard. Eamon read it: "We have the head of the Jader mabari." The note was a coded message that told Eamon they had been successful in taking Anora and leaving for Jader. Eamon crumpled the message and threw it into the fire, standing there to assure it turned to ash.

Seneschal Denoel cleared his throat. "Is there anything you require, Your Grace?" Denoel was a valued and trusted servant. He ran the Denerim estate and knew more of Eamon's business than anyone else, even Isolde. The seneschal walked over and picked up a fireplace shovel. He moved the ash around and broke up any pieces larger than a grain of sand.

"Pack up my things. I leave for Redcliffe immediately. Tell Teagan to follow as soon as he finishes up with his heroic acts to aid the ineffective wardens. I need to find out the state of the castle and lay in my defenses, just in case. Loghain and Cousland said that they cleared out the darkspawn in Redcliffe village, but I need to make certain after this debacle."

"Debacle, Your Grace?" Denoel paused in stoking the ashes in the fireplace, making certain the note was unretrievable.

"Yes, the wardens mucked it all up. The Archdemon wasn't slain properly and it will be reborn sometime, apparently." Eamon threw up his hands. "If they'd only said something! Loghain knew better than to keep that from the allies fighting by his side! Of course, now he's protected by the Grey Wardens, but he will be held accountable! I swear it!"

Denoel nodded. "Of course, Your Grace … and your things are already packed and ready along with Bann Teagan's, awaiting only your order for me to move the horses from the basement stables to the escape tunnels."

Eamon stepped to his desk and removed a packet from a secret compartment behind the center drawer. He made to toss them into the study fireplace as well, but had second thoughts. "Take these to the kitchens and burn them in the fire there before the cook staff is released from the basement with the horses. I don't have the time. Nothing must remain of them, do you understand?"

"Right away, Your Grace. There is fresh water in your room for you to refresh as well as a change of clothing." He reached up and untied the feather. "You do not need to wear this any longer, am I right?"

Eamon chuckled. "Yes, thank you. I'll be in my room if you need me."

* * *

The seneschal stepped to the door to watch Arl Eamon head to his room. Denoel had always been a loyal servant … to Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. Denoel's time here in Ferelden was done. He could only imagine the look on the Guerrins' faces when they discovered that a fourth battalion of chevaliers, under the command of Grand Duke Gaspard, had entered Ferelden through an easily defeated border guard at the southern pass through the Frostback Mountains. They would find that not only Redcliffe village, but the castle as well, was now under Orlesian chevalier control. It was always said that whoever controlled Redcliffe, controlled Ferelden. Gaspard was about to test that theory … to control Ferelden, and to use the success as a way to dethrone the soft and ineffectual Celene before all was lost to Nevarra.

Before he could step out of the doorway, Leliana and that Antivan, Zevran, ran through the front door. Denoel glanced down at the documents in his hand, the letters to Celene arranging a marriage to Cailan and the benefits that would be provided to Arl Eamon and Isolde for the Arl's service to the Empire. Letters that outlined the chevaliers entrance into Ferelden's northern ports and the terms with which the Empress' chevaliers would be recalled. Letters with Eamon Guerrin's signature and singularly unique seal, one that even the great … and now dead … Marjolaine could not forge. Evidence that would damn Eamon Guerrin and topple Redcliffe castle, the rook on the chessboard of The Game. Denoel couldn't believe his fortune in having these placed right into his hands at this moment in time. The Maker was siding with Gaspard.

The seneschal followed Leliana and displayed his most upset face as he quietly entered her room and closed the door. "I beg your pardon, my lady … but … I …" He looked at the packet of letters. He forced his hand to shake as he held them in front of him.

She immediately took pity. Her time at the Chantry had made her soft-hearted. "Seneschal Denoel, what is the matter?" She shoved the last of her things into her backpack and stepped up to him. He handed the letters to her without another word. She read them. "Dear Maker," she whispered as she sat on the bed. "Where did you get these?"

Denoel nervously looked around. "They fell from His Grace's arms as he was hurriedly gathering items from his office, my lady. Do you … do you plan to show them to someone?"

She got a determined look on her face. "I do. Thank you, Denoel!" She gave him a brilliant smile, shoved the letters into a pocket inside her leather chest armor, picked up her bag and left to join Zevran to leave the estate. Denoel didn't know where they were going in such a hurry, but it didn't matter. The evidence would ultimately damn the Arl for his involvement. One minor obstacle to remove from the Grand Duke's plan.

After Teagan returned and quickly left to join his brother, Denoel departed Denerim, leaving a blazing estate in his wake. He would make his way south to Gwaren where he would take ship to Jader. The Denerim docks were too risky and Celene held Amaranthine and Highever. There should be plenty of refugee caravans heading away from the capitol.

Soon, all anyone would find at the Redcliffe estate in Denerim would be a charred body that resembled Denoel, lost in a dreadful fire that must have been set by the darkspawn and slowly spread throughout the manor.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

_TheGoldman,_ a few conspiracies, actually. Poor Eamon. Someday, I may try to write a story where he's just a misunderstood, hen-pecked husband … maybe even one sympathetic to Isolde … but not today. LOL! ;) Thank you for your review!

_Guest,_ I really appreciate your kind words! Yep, I thought I'd explore Alistair not turning into a total lush. As far as Origins, I am trying to maintain canon backstory as much as possible. But, DA2? Not so much … as you'll see in upcoming chapters. This is obviously a total AU after the rooftop of Fort Drakon. hehe


	4. Emerging Players

**Emerging Players**

Silia, the Chasind healer, and her tribe had been kind to Fergus during the months it took him to heal his broken body. To walk again. To be able to defend himself. But, he had nothing to give them in gratitude. They told him of the aftermath of Ostagar, a battle that happened shortly after Fergus had been injured and left for dead. They knew little else other than the army had been decimated. Thoughts of the state of the rest of Ferelden constantly warred with his sanity. Fergus kept those thoughts down the best he could, but during those quiet moments of reverie in the morning or before sleep, visions of Oren playing with his wooden sword would surface. Fergus and Kayda used to sneak away to work with Oren. He would be a fine swordsman one day … if the worst hadn't already happened to Ferelden.

Fergus wasn't all that religious, but still, he prayed to the Maker every night and every morning to keep his family safe. So much had happened that he didn't know. Did his father and Arl Howe get to Ostagar before or after the rout? How was Kayda doing in Highever? Did mother, Oriana and Oren make it safely to Bann Loren's? The north of Ferelden _was_ far away from the darkspawn down south, but he'd been gone a long time. Fergus heard the wardens at Ostagar say that the Deep Roads snaked everywhere under Ferelden. No where was truly safe from the darkspawn, especially if this was indeed a Blight.

Once Fergus was ready to head home, the Chasind felt the need to move their camp and were going to head west to avoid the Blighted areas of the Wilds. They were willing to guide him to the Imperial Highway where he'd be able to find his way back to Highever. He suggested they check over Ostagar. Armor, weapons and other supplies useful to the tribe were likely discarded there after the battle.

For some reason, they didn't run into a single darkspawn on the way to Ostagar, but they did pass a gigantic hole in the ground. The Chasind scouts assured Fergus that the crater was new. The swamp was already claiming it as a new lake. Several swollen streams from early thaws cascaded over the edges. The circle of waterfalls might have been beautiful if Fergus didn't know it was filling a lake that would mask where the darkspawn burst out of the ground to assault Ostagar.

The entrances to the Deep Roads must have been sealed at the bottom because the hole _was_ filling with water. Unfortunately, the water would be tainted for years. After Fergus shared his theory, Silia told the tribe to mark it for other Chasind who might come along later. The pyramid of boulders with a dead tree leaning away from the lake was their sign for other Chasind to stay away. Silia said that by the time the boulders were overgrown and the tree rotted, the water should be good again. Fergus never ceased to marvel at the practical culture and nature knowledge of the Chasind.

No darkspawn remained at Ostagar either, although the signs of their filth were everywhere. A pyre was found outside the gate to the Wilds. Someone else had been here. Only one pyre likely meant it had been someone important to the visitors. Again, Fergus was loathe to speculate on who that might have been.

He found the king's pavilion destroyed and all of the chests were either destroyed or opened. Nothing of value there for Fergus; however, near the Highever bivouac he did find a relatively good shield and a finely made sword. He encouraged the Chasind to take whatever they could use. Surprisingly, they found a number of things. The Quartermaster's chest was still locked and free of the darkspawn taint. The chest was easily unlocked by the Chasind warriors who were quite skilled in opening even the best of locks.

On a whim, Fergus looked through the warden tent and around the ashes of the bonfire the wardens always kept going. The darkspawn taint fairly well covered everything. Just as he was about to turn away, a glint caught his eye. Something was buried in the dirt below one of the larger destroyed chests. Fergus took a stick to carefully clear away the wrecked chest and found a smaller chest. It was locked in addition to being hidden, but, again, that was no trouble for the Chasind. Once unlocked, Fergus opened it and the Chasind shied away. Inside were several vials of a dark red liquid, a couple vials of a blue liquid, a journal and a few other documents.

"It is old magic, Fergus. You should leave it buried," Silia warned him.

He sighed. "It belonged to the wardens and they've been around for centuries, so I believe you when you say it's old magic." He closed the small chest and found room for it in his backpack. "I met the Warden-Commander. If he were still alive, I have a feeling he'd still have this with him. If there are any other wardens left in Ferelden, they might appreciate this being returned." He smiled at Silia. "I'll be careful with it, I promise."

She laughed. "Well, I do not wish to find you on the Shores of Rebirth with a curse we cannot lift!" Then, she became serious. "Do not open the vials, Fergus. Give it back to these wardens as soon as you can."

"I won't … and I will." He looked up and noticed the tribe had circled around him. They were getting ready to head west and he would be going north on the Imperial Highway. "I find myself filled with sorrow at leaving your company. There are not enough words to tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for me."

Krasond, the chief, walked up. "Stay alert, warrior. You are strong again. You can defend yourself, but the land weeps in despair for what has been done to it. Our time together is over. We must find our new home and you must return to your old one." Then, he handed Fergus one of their prized bone knives, thin as a finger but as long as a forearm, hardened over time, dyed to a dark brown sheen and sharp as any metal knife. "Take this. The land will recognize the bearer as honorable and wise. Call on the land and it will protect you."

Silia handed Fergus a small cloth packet with something hard inside. "Wear this inside your armor, near your heart. It will save you from a death blow once." She grinned and shook her finger up at him. "But not a second time so be careful!"

"You honor me with these gifts. Thank you." He looked up and saw the tribe lined up in a row leading to the north gate. He slipped the knife into the concealed sheathe in the new pair of boots he'd just found and put the packet into an inner pocket. They each touched him as he walked away. Silia told him that he must not look back or be cursed. Fergus didn't believe in their magic, but in respect, he did as she asked him and walked forward, north into a Ferelden he wasn't sure he'd know any longer.

* * *

The ship carrying Anora was long gone by the time Loghain and the others reached the docks. Several other Orlesian ships were pulling out of the harbor as well. However, one ship was stopped and quite a few chevaliers were captured and imprisoned in Fort Drakon. When they headed back to the palace, they saw a huge blaze coming from the market district. It was Eamon's Denerim estate. Servants were crowded around and said that the Guerrins were on their way to Redcliffe, but no one had seen Eamon's seneschal, Denoel. Poor man probably perished trying to save Eamon's trinkets and toys. Eamon was on Loghain's short list, but he had more immediate problems to organize. _No doubt, just what Eamon's counting on_, was Loghain's thought as they helped with the water brigade. Eamon had fled to Redcliffe with Teagan. Loghain wasn't the only one who thought that suspicious.

As far as his prisoners in Fort Drakon, chevaliers were well-trained to keep secrets and Loghain would only authorize torture to go so far. He had to admit to himself that he just looked the other way with Rendon Howe much too often. In any case, one of Loghain's advisors told him that chevalier orders were very compartmentalized. The ones he had in the Fort Drakon prison were likely unaware of any orders beyond killing Fereldens. Loghain ordered their executions when it became clear no information was forthcoming. Those executions were very well-attended. Most of Denerim took a break from their troubles and turned out to sneer and cheer.

A bit of good news was that the darkspawn seemed to be heading back underground … well, good for the topside and not so much for the dwarves. King Bhelen immediately called back the warriors he'd sent to help the wardens. The rumor soon spread that the Archdemon would be making a re-appearance. No one would know where or when. Thanks again to bloody warden secrets, Loghain had no idea what that meant. He left that research to Kayda.

Loghain had long ago drawn up martial order plans in case of a disaster and the Landsmeet approved them, as they so often did, without reading them. Of course, it helped that Anora put the item at the end of the agenda on the last day. It confirmed the order of command: King, Queen, Teryn of Highever, Teryn of Gwaren, Arl of Redcliffe, Arl of Denerim, Arl of Amaranthine, Arl of South Reach … and so forth, to re-establish order in Ferelden. There were damn few alternatives to Loghain's position of command. Even though he was technically a warden … and made it clear that once the emergency was over he would relinquish command and return to the wardens … few had any concerns about Loghain's leadership in this crisis. Kayda made noise like she was the Teryna of Highever now, so she should be in command. However, Bann Sighard convinced her that her damnable pride needed to be funneled to the darkspawn while Loghain handled the army and reorganization.

Begrudgingly, Kayda extended Loghain's leave from the wardens, but only after Loghain had released all the papers and stores he'd had taken from the warden compound in Denerim. Unfortunately, Howe had destroyed a good deal of it. She did find instructions and components of the foul Joining potion. After helping to get Denerim in some sort of order, Kayda announced she would go on a recruiting mission. He'd heard she'd already gotten some wardens from those who were blight-sick. Of course, not all of them survived the Joining.

After three weeks, with the people barely able to navigate from the main gate to the market district, Vaughan Kendells showed his face. "Loghain, everything is in order enough to call a Landsmeet. We need to decide on many things, not the least of which is who will be ruler of Ferelden." When the wardens and their companions infiltrated the Arl of Denerim's estate to rescue Anora from Howe, Vaughan Kendells had been found in the dungeons of the Arl of Denerim's estate. Kayda released him. It would have helped everyone if she'd just killed him along with Rendon.

"Kendells, I would think you have a more immediate concern," Loghain growled.

"What can be more important than the proper leadership of our country?!" The ass must have thought he'd have a claim on the throne.

Loghain strode over to Kendells. "You are the interim Arl of Denerim and, to my knowledge, no one has seen you since the battle! Your city lies in ruins! Your people are starving, sick and injured! And, you think _anyone_ cares about who's butt sits on the throne?!"

Kendells straightened his clean and pressed tunic. "I _am_ the Arl of Denerim, as set forth in my father's will and I know I am not the only noble who is concerned with your continued authority in Ferelden!"

Narrowing his eyes, Loghain stepped up closer to Kendells. He had almost a head on the boy. To Vaughan's credit, he didn't cower. "You _are_ the interim Arl of Denerim until the Landsmeet puts you in place as the permanent Arl." Loghain paused a moment then turned and walked to the other side of a long table filled with reports, maps and requests. "I fully recognize that I am both the Teryn of Gwaren and a Grey Warden. Both of us hold hollow titles, at the moment, Kendells. I suggest you help me fix Denerim and I promise to add my voice to yours when your petition comes up."

Kendalls smirked. "As if that would hold any influence any longer."

Loghain's initial burst of anger quickly cooled. He raised an eyebrow. "Or, you can shirk your duties and lose your petition. My voice won't be the one to condemn you when the nobles' estates remain barricaded behind rubble and refuse that you, as the acting Arl of Denerim, have not seen fit to have cleared. It is, of course, your choice … Your Grace."

The boy had no idea how to be a useful member of society. "I … I see." His father pampered him and protected him from judgement for his distasteful acts. Kendells looked at the table. "Which stack has concerns of the nobles?"

"That one." Loghain pointed to the tallest stack on the table. "You take care of those and I'll handle the rest, but I warn you, abuse of anyone … even elves … will not be tolerated." He pulled out a ledger sheet. "This tells you how much coin you have to pay workers to handle the demands of the nobles." Kendells took the ledger and Loghain grabbed his wrist. "That coin is to pay your workers … _after_ your own coffers are exhausted. I will hear if this is not done. The commoner has gained a voice with this crisis and they are not afraid to use it."

Kendells shock was evident. "You think we would hear the voice of a commoner … or a … an elf … over a noble's?!" Kendells growled, "Or, are you just feeling guilty for selling all our elf servants to Tevinter?"

Loghain's sneer was cruel. It never worked to play to Loghain's guilt. "How many noble voices do you think remain, boy? Howe is dead. Cousland, his wife, daughter-in-law and grandson are dead. Fergus is likely dead. Your father is dead … rumor has it by your order. Your toadies Braden and Jonaley are dead, their heads on darkspawn spears in front of your estate. I wonder, did they come to you for refuge and you refused to open your gates to them? Franderel died trying to carry a chest of some of his more precious art to the docks. He was dismembered and stuffed in the chest. By order of the Landsmeet of Dragon 9:28 August, martial order rules over Denerim now, Kendells. It is _my_ decision whose voice is heard and I put a lot of weight on the testimony of human, dwarf and elf who fought by my side rather than hide cowering behind their tall, thick walls and iron gates. To answer your second question, yes, I feel guilty for allowing elves to be sold into slavery, but I am trying to atone for my sins. I suggest you do the same … prove to me that you are no longer the disgusting and foul prick you were under your father's influence."

Both Loghain and Kendells then noticed Ser Cauthrien standing in the doorway trying to avoid smiling. "General Loghain, five ships have been outfitted and we are ready to depart within the hour for Cumberland, Kirkwall, Ostwick, and Hereinia to locate and repatriate refugees that fled Ferelden during the Blight."

"Ser Cauthrien, I demand you bear witness to my treatment at the hands of this … this man." Kendells puffed out his chest.

Cauthrien gave him the best blank face Loghain had ever witnessed. "I saw no ill treatment here, Vaughan Kendells; however, I have witnessed you on numerous other occasions. Shall I bear witness to those? Let's see … on your way here this morning …"

A number of emotions played out on Kendells' face. However, to his credit, the hopelessness of his continued indignation won out. "Never mind." Kendells grumbled and sat to read the reports of the nobles.

"Have you loaded extra clothing and food?" Loghain wanted to make sure these people realized they weren't being arrested. Ferelden would need manpower to rebuild and defend herself.

"Yes, General, at least what we could spare. And, the Chantry is sending Ser Irminric and several other Templars to aid with any apostates who wish to return."

"Good. Irminric knows to be reasonable. Maker knows we could use twenty more like Wynne here. Poor old woman is working herself to death." Loghain noticed Kendells stand and head toward the door with several parchments in his hand. "Where are you going?"

"Not that I need to ask your permission, but I'm going to see what's left of Eamon's estate and Franderel's estate …" he glared at Loghain. "And, see about hiring some workers."

Once he was gone, Cauthrien cautiously asked, "Are you certain it's a good idea to trust him?"

Loghain shrugged. "No one ever has, Cauthrien. Let's give him a chance to show his quality … or he will be locked up in Fort Drakon." He nodded toward where Kendells was sitting. "He was also reading through the Landsmeet order which gives me the right to execute anyone caught looting or stealing, be they elf, commoner or noble. Do you still have someone following him?"

"Yes, General, of course." Cauthrien could always be trusted to honor Loghain's order and go beyond.

"And, the ship to Minrathous?" Loghain asked quietly.

Cauthrien leaned closer. "Our best scouts are headed to the slave markets to see what they can do."

"The Queen will be put out with me when she sees how much of the treasury I send with you to buy back our elves, but it must be done." Loghain leaned against the table and sighed.

"Her Majesty will be home soon, General," Cauthrien said with a small smile. "And, she will understand. Now, by your leave, I have a ship to Kirkwall to board."

"Then, Maker keep you safe, Cauthrien. Bring home our people." Loghain hesitated a moment too long. He thought he would actually embrace the woman he considered another daughter, but she bowed and was out the door before he could. _Just as well_, Loghain thought,_ it might have been too great a shock to her._

* * *

**AN: **Thanks to all reviews, favorites and follows!

_The Goldman_, thank you for your review! :) You'll have to wait and see about that poor dragon host of the Archdemon and its bits and blood. ;)

_Sironblood1_, thanks for your generous review! As for poor Alistair in DA2, we fanfic writers get the freedom of creativity without the bonds of game design. Yes, Loghain has a lot to atone for … but so does everyone, Kayda included. DA has a very rich world. In that regard, this AU is exploring a branch of "what if" that the game wasn't able to do, understandably so. It might have made an interesting optional DLC, though. ;)


	5. A Warden, a Queen and a Party

**A Warden, a Queen and a Party**

Over the last couple of weeks, Alistair kept up his training routine during the day and spent a few nights at The Mélange, but then the book nestled at the bottom of his storage chest got the better of him and he started to read it. Conveniently, it started with verified Warden information and ended with a pretty long chapter filled with "Blight Stories". He flipped around the first half of the book, trying to find something of use that might help Ferelden battle the effects of the Blight. Most of the verified information was news to Alistair. He made notes on successful ways to destroy blighted land that he planned to send to … someone, probably Kayda — fire first, followed by freezing, which could easily be accomplished by Ferelden's winters.

When he could avoid it no longer, he flipped to the section about the Archdemon. _Never let it be said that I'm predictable and read a book from front to back_, he mused to himself. However, the first paragraphs of that section made him throw the book on the floor and stare at it as if it would turn into a broodmother before his eyes. It plainly stated the _entire_ reason for the creation of the Grey Wardens: Only a Grey Warden could kill an Archdemon. It meant the death of both the Archdemon and the Grey Warden. The essence of the dead Archdemon would be drawn to the nearest tainted source. Being the one to make the killing blow would ensure that the nearest tainted source would be a Grey Warden. It went on to describe why, but that first paragraph turned Alistair's blood cold. What were the odds that three wardens could accomplish what it took armies of wardens to do before? His guilt overwhelmed him, even though the rational part of him mind told him that four wardens would have made little difference. He locked up the book and his notes and almost ran to the tavern.

The Mélange was half-full, but his favorite seat in the corner with his back to the wall was available. Alistair noticed that a warden had been following him lately. The trailing warden nodded to Alistair, grinned and sat at a table by the door, drinking with some other wardens. At least they left him alone.

However, the evening didn't go as quietly as he would have wanted. Sergio, Alman's Senior Captain and number two man, walked in the door. After speaking with the other wardens who got up and left, he walked over to Alistair. "Warden Alistair, the Commander needs to speak with all of us. Please come with me back to the compound."

Alistair sighed and looked longingly at the tankard the wench just dropped off for him. Most of the Nevarran wardens here had been civil to him and pretty understanding, so he couldn't think of a reason to refuse. "Not going to let me even finish one tonight, eh? Must be important." The man didn't smile and didn't say anything else. "Okay then," Alistair continued as he took a long drink from the mug and stood. "Lead on."

For some reason, the streets were … agitated … tonight. People darted around with their heads down and there was very little conversation. Alistair wondered if the mood of the city had anything to do with Alman's announcement. "What's going on, Captain?" he asked. "Here in the city," Alistair clarified.

"A large group of chevaliers arrived tonight and they are clearing the streets for some reason." Sergio shrugged. "Maybe some minor noble doesn't want to sully his eyes by looking at peasants, who knows why."

Before they could reach the gates to the warden compound, a carriage with chevaliers hanging on the sides came barreling down the narrow lane, forcing Alistair and Sergio to flatten themselves against the wall. It had to slow as it got nearer to them so it could turn onto the lane to the _Château Frontiére, _the palace of Duke Beaumort. Alistair had just managed to stop his pending snicker about Sergio's spot-on assessment when the carriage curtain flew back and he saw the face of a panic-stricken beautiful blonde woman … a face he had hoped never to see again …. "Anora," he whispered. She recognized him at the same moment, but her mouth was covered. Only her eyes pleaded with him. To rescue her? With the next breath, the curtain was pulled shut and the carriage moved on.

"What did you say?" Sergio asked.

"I … uh … I said you were right … about the minor noble sullying thing." Alistair took a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Let's get to the compound." He had no idea what to do about Anora at that particular moment. He certainly didn't know who he could trust with the information, considering the already the heated feelings between Nevarran and Orlesian wardens. _What was going on in Ferelden?!_ he thought to himself as they entered the compound.

The wardens were all in the mess hall. Trays of bread and cheese were on the tables and mugs of wine had been passed out as they entered the hall. "If I realized you guys partied like this, I wouldn't have gone to the tavern." Alistair's remark managed to get a small smile out of Sergio.

Alistair found a place to sit as Sergio went to the head table to sit by Alman. Without much fanfare, the Warden-Commander stood and the wardens quieted. "First order of business is the announcement that we have a new First Warden, Lucien has gone on his Calling and Renato Constanda of Nevarra has become our next First Warden."

An Orlesian warden in the back of the room jumped up and threw down his mug just before he pulled his sword. "The First Warden was to be Marceau! First you Nevarrans take the Warden-Commander's place here and now you take the First Warden! This cannot stand!" Even though Commander Alman was Nevarran, the majority of wardens in Jader were still Orlesian … and many of those stood and put their hands on their hilts, but, so far, only one pulled his sword.

"Silence!" Alman roared. "We are Grey Wardens! Not Nevarran! Not Orlesian! Not Ferelden!"

The Orlesians all turned toward Alistair. The vocal one cried, "And this Ferelden dog ran from his duty leaving others to battle the Archdemon! Yet, you protect him!"

Alman sighed. "Sit down and at least let me finish." The Orlesians slowly sat. All but the one with his sword still out. Alman stepped to the front of his table. "I have just received news from Denerim. The Archdemon and the horde attacked the city."

Alistair put his head in his hands. "Maker, no," he whispered.

But, Alman wasn't finished. "To get to the end first, the wardens there did not kill the Archdemon. It was killed by a non-warden …" Alistair could see Alman warring with just how much to say to the shocked faces of his command … everyone else knew what that meant — the secret Alistair had just read. The Archdemon would be reborn. All the work Duncan and Kayda and Alistair had done was for naught. "… it was killed by a non-warden because there were only three wardens in all of Ferelden!"

Alman stalked toward the Orlesian with his weapon out while Alman pulled his own sword. "Because your Orlesian Warden-Commander planted false reports about the state of Ferelden!" Alman stood toe-to-toe with the vocal Orlesian. "Your Orlesian Warden-Commander wanted Ferelden to become weak so Orlais could land three battalions of chevaliers in the northern port cities. The one that landed in Denerim found themselves in the middle of the darkspawn attack and the cowards fled as soon as they could. That battalion just arrived in Jader. Your Orlesian First Warden ordered your Orlesian Jader Warden-Commander to do this!" Alman thrust his blade into the surprised Orlesian and shoved it up to slice through a few vital organs. "And, _you_ aided in this subterfuge!" As the man slid off Alman's blade, he eyed the other nearby Orlesian wardens. "I will brook no further insubordination. Is that clear?"

It was truly a shock to everyone, Nevarran and Orlesian alike. Alistair then realized, despite what Alman had just said, the Grey Wardens were as political as any other organization. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Everything he'd suffered, from the Joining to the betrayal at the Landsmeet, none of it was for any sort of noble ideal. Thedas was a world of countries, divisions of people with ingrained sets of loyalty and honor. Neither loyalty nor honor was defined the same way by any two countries. Nevarra had just performed a _coup d'etat_ within the wardens and won. The Orlesian masters of the Grey Wardens had been ousted … for the moment.

No one else challenged Alman. "I have more to tell you." He nodded to two of the wardens at the door and they removed the dead Orlesian. Alistair could tell by the looks on the faces of some of the other Orlesians, that this was far from over. _Coup d'etat_ could be initiated by anyone. Alistair wondered if the Orlesians would keep Anora's presence a secret or announce it proudly.

"The returning chevaliers are saying that Wardens Kayda Cousland and Loghain Mac Tir made a valiant effort to down the Archdemon. But, they failed even after Warden Riodan disabled the dragon's flight. Riodan perished before the final battle." He held up a parchment. "This is the final report of Senior Warden Riordan and he gave the Ferelden wardens, including our Alistair, high marks. Ostagar failed so Alistair and Kayda had to travel Ferelden gathering an army from the Dalish, the mages and the dwarves."

"Why did Riordan offer the Joining to Loghain?" someone asked. That was a question that Alistair very much wanted answered as well.

Unfortunately, it was far from the nefarious one Alistair had hoped for. "Ferelden had three wardens and, at the time Riordan wrote the report, they were looking at an extended battle with the darkspawn, perhaps even the Archdemon. The armies had been gathered, but they needed more wardens. Loghain Mac Tir was a general and a strong warrior."

"But, why didn't Riordan give more Fereldens the opportunity to join?" The question fell out of Alistair's mouth before he could stop it. "Why _only_ Loghain?"

Alman shrugged. "I have no idea, Alistair. I suspect it was because of the moment of opportunity or because he could only find enough of the components of the Joining for one."

"Or Riordan wished to go down in history as the Orlesian who downed the mighty Loghain Mac Tir," one of the Nevarran wardens sneered.

"One week kitchen duty, Almanzo. Report to the kitchens as soon as we are done." Alman glared at the vocal Nevarran.

The man frowned but said, "Yes, Warden-Commander."

"Now, if all the interruptions are over …" Alman sent a glare to Alistair who shrugged. "The truth of the matter is that we are now certain, without any doubts, that our recent nightmares have been accurate harbingers. We have a Blight in Thedas, with an Archdemon that could show itself again soon. Our archives indicate that the lull could be anywhere from a few months to several years. The dwarves will have an increased population of darkspawn again so the First Warden has sent King Bhelen an offer for warden assistance. The Ferelden wardens witnessed the Archdemon in the Deep Roads before it arose to attack Denerim. It may reform there and rebuild. I know not, but while we are aiding the dwarves we can find out. If King Bhelen agrees to our help, Jader will be primarily responsible for lending that aid." Alman continued on reporting the activities and plans of other countries throughout Thedas. Finally, he came to Ferelden. "I have sent the First Warden a detailed report of the situation in Ferelden. Unfortunately, we now have a country, half-decimated by Blight and civil war. Not to mention that Orlais illegally holds their two northern ports. There is nothing the wardens can do about that. Warden Kayda Cousland has assumed the role of Ferelden Warden-Commander. The First Warden has decided to send someone else to fill that role."

"How did you get all that from the First Warden so fast?" Sergio asked.

"Renato travels south. He is nearing Cumberland." Alman started to gather up his parchments. "Everyone is dismissed."

"Who's going to be Ferelden's Warden-Commander?" Alistair asked as the others started to file out. He didn't find Sergio's amused snicker very funny.

Alman smiled. "I need you to come with me, Alistair."

* * *

Anora was shown to a very nice suite of rooms done up in colors of dark green and gold. It had a large four-poster bed with the deep green velvet covers already turned down to show the golden hued sheets and pillow. A small tray of breads and cut fruit sat on an ostentatious dining table with four chairs. Both the table and the chairs had heavy clawed feet on the bottom of the legs. Anora hated those. She'd ripped more than one gown that snagged on those claws.

She was shown an armoire full of clothing that, on brief inspection, looked to be her size, if not to her taste. She determined that she would spend the next day culling through the clothes to eliminate those she couldn't stand to wear. She prayed to the Maker that at least one dress would be acceptable. The one she was wearing … that she had worn for weeks … would need to be burned. An array of pretentious masks adorned the inside of the armoire doors. Anora would have to be knocked unconscious before she'd ever consider wearing one.

An adjacent room held a large library. Anora quickly scanned the titles. They were interesting tomes. She resolved that these books would be her salvation during her incarceration … and the large, overstuffed green leather couch in front of the warm fire would be her haven of solitude where she would read.

Everything was beautiful, ornate, clean … and behind a heavy locked door with two chevalier guards posted outside it.

A large bathtub was filled with warm, scented water. _So nice of them to realize I needed a bath_, she thought to herself. But, then she had to grant that she did need one for her mental state as well as her physical one. An elf helped her undress for the tub. It made Anora think of Erlina. She wondered if Erlina had been killed because she was Anora's handmaiden or because she was an Orlesian spy who had outlived her usefulness. Both avenues of thought were troubling.

"My name is Delphia, Your Majesty. My room is on the other side of the bathing room. I shall await your orders there. Simply ring for me." The petite elf with curly red hair and large brown eyes curtseyed and turned to leave.

"So, you're locked up in here with me?" Anora didn't know if she should be horrified with a stranger in her private rooms or filled with pity that the poor girl had to be there.

Delphia smiled. "Well, sort of, Your Majesty. A door in my room leads to a stair to the kitchens and laundry below, but a guard is posted at the bottom. I promise you will not know I am here unless you need something."

"Would you help me wash my hair, then? Weeks on a ship full of brutish men has left it quite the mess." Anora started to take the pins out of her hair.

The girl looked thrilled to be accepted. "Of course, Your Majesty! Please, allow me." She hummed a bit off-key but it was relaxing, nonetheless. The girl knew what she was doing and soon Anora was clean, dressed in a warm sleeping gown, propped up and reading _The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry_. It didn't take long for Anora to become drowsy.

As she dropped off to sleep, Anora realized better than to trust the girl too much, but knew they didn't bring Anora all the way to Jader just to assassinate her on the first night … or at least that's what she hoped.

* * *

Nathaniel's scout group got close enough to the Vigil to see the sentries on the wall. They were not chevaliers … or at least they weren't wearing the shiny Orlesian plate armor. It was too far away to see what livery they did have.

Where entrance to the Vigil was proving difficult, the city of Amaranthine was easy to slip into. When the Orlesians showed up, the smugglers abandoned the caverns and tunnels that went under the city. One of the Nathaniel's eclectic group used to be a smuggler, so he knew where the tunnel entrances were. The citizens were more than eager to aide Nathaniel's men. Those first few days were stressful, to say the least, for the anger-filled Nathaniel who thought his father had been murdered unjustly.

No one could convince him otherwise until they found he sister, Delilah. She had married Master Henley's son, Albert, and they had a child on the way. It took Delilah quite a few tense hours to convince Nathaniel that Kayda Cousland was justified in killing their father. It would have been either by her blade or by the executioner's axe and neither sibling wished to see their father's head hanging above the main gate to the city.

By the end of that first week, Nathaniel and Albert snuck Delilah out of the city. There were many more chevaliers at Vigil's Keep than in the city, but both brother and husband declared staying in the city too dangerous. Besides, they needed to get word to Denerim about what was going on in Amaranthine and Highever. They arranged for her to travel with a merchant caravan with reports of what was going on in the north for the Queen … or whoever was in charge now.

"My lord, do you think Seneschal Varel is still alive?" The man next Nathaniel was Brody Eddlebrek, son of the most powerful man in the arling other than his father. Bann Esmerelle used to hold that position, but she was no where to be found. Her ex-seneschal was coordinating logistics at Nathaniel's camp at the Forlorn Cove and her estate was being used by the Orlesians.

"Maker, I hope so. It was rumored that my father had him imprisoned." Nathaniel stopped speaking when Brody pointed out that two dwarves were leaving the Vigil. This was what they'd been waiting for … making contact with someone not likely to be Orlesian.

Once the pair rounded the corner and was out of sight of the Keep, Nathaniel walked up to them. "Wellmet. I am Nathaniel Howe and I'm very curious to know what's going on in the keep." He hoped his smile would disarm the two dwarves.

"Heh, you're a bold one, Howe. I'll give ya' that." The two nodded to each other. "My name is Voldrik Glavonak and this is my brother, Dworkin. We've just been kicked out, but I'll tell you what we know."

After a bit of back and forth, Nathaniel found out that a score of Orlesian wardens had landed over a week ago. The dwarves heard about the sad state of the keep from a friend in Amaranthine and came out to the Vigil to offer help in rebuilding.

"Vigil's Keep is in poor shape, Lord Nathaniel," Voldrik said with a frown and shake of his head. "If a dwarf ever built such a pile of loose stone and shifting baserock in Orzammar, he'd be flogged and then thrown in the lava."

Then, they continued on with the tale. The Vigil was attacked by darkspawn. All of the wardens were dead or taken and a lot of the chevaliers were killed or became blight-sick. There was talk of the chevaliers calling for reinforcements from Jader. Seneschal Varel had been liberated from the prison and was tasked with helping the wardens. He recruited the blight-sick chevaliers into the wardens. The Glavonaks didn't know if he was still free or not … or if the new wardens were healthy enough to protect the keep from further darkspawn attacks.

Dworkin got a gleam in his eye. "Thanks to the darkspawn, the Orlesian population of the Keep is dwindling. Do you plan to retake the Vigil?"

Nathaniel looked at his men and then nodded. "Vigil's Keep has the reputation of being impenetrable … but maybe that is no longer the case." He paused a moment. "Would the two of you like to join us? We don't have anything for you to rebuild at the current time, but we might in the weeks and months to come."

Dworkin gave out a shrill, maniacal laugh. "Oh, I don't rebuild things. I blow things up." Voldrik sighed as Dworkin added, "And, you'll likely need Voldrik's help if I sign on for your little party."

_Party?_ Nathaniel thought to himself. _Is that what dwarves call retaking what's rightfully yours? _As they all headed through the backwoods paths to their base at Forlorn Cove, Nathaniel worried exactly what degree of trouble he was in for with these two dwarves.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you to all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

Have a great week all! See you next Sunday. :)


	6. Moves and Countermoves

**Moves and Countermoves**

Teagan and his brother were three or four days out from Redcliffe when they came upon an armed man on the road. Teagan recognized him instantly. The man had fought bravely beside him in Denerim. Murdock was haggard and injured, but standing strong.

The Bann of Rainesfere wasn't surprised that Murdock and the Redcliffe men had beaten them south after fighting in Denerim. The two Guerrin brothers had stops along the way at various landholders. They needed to report Loghain's failure with the Archdemon and to share their outrage at Alistair's treatment by the commoner queen. The same banns Eamon had called upon to support them against Loghain at the Landsmeet were now primed to support an uprising in Alistair's name when things settled a bit and the boy could be relocated.

Teagan questioned Eamon's dealings with Empress Celene, but fully supported Alistair over Anora and her father. Loghain may be a Grey Warden now, but Teagan knew the man was going to invoke martial law in Denerim and take control of the city. The idiot Landsmeet approved the plan over the Guerrin's fierce objections. At the time, the main objection was that no one should have that degree of control over a free Ferelden. Now, the absolute worst scenario had occurred. Loghain went mad, destroyed Ferelden, instigated civil war … and now had control of the capital.

Murdock took a knee in front of Eamon's horse. "Your Grace, I have the displeasure to report that Redcliffe is lost. A host of Orlesian chevaliers cowardly descended upon the women and children while we were fighting for our lives in Denerim."

"What?!" Teagan was incensed and turned to glare at his brother.

Teagan caught the brief look of satisfaction that flickered in Eamon's face. However, Eamon squelched it before he feigned indignation and asked, "How did this happen?!"

Teagan ground his teeth to keep from tearing into Eamon in front of Murdock. "Are there survivors?"

Murdock stood and motioned to the north ramp off the Imperial Highway. "Yes, my lord, the Arlessa is camped by the lake bridge with the survivors." He allowed himself a small smile. "She graciously accepted the chevaliers at the gate and then escaped in the night with the ladies of the castle through the tunnels. They collected as many as they could in the village and set a siege camp here. She said we were to take watches to await you on the road, Your Grace."

Curiously, Teagan then noticed that false concern of his brother turn into genuine worry. Eamon turned his horse toward the ramp and said, "Take us there immediately and send someone to replace you to watch the road." Apparently, Isolde wasn't supposed to flee the castle in Eamon's grand scheme. Of course, that fact then shook Teagan's own resolve. If these Orlesian invaders weren't expected by Eamon and Isolde, who were they? One of Celene's detractors?

As they neared the encampment, Teagan was relieved to see that there were quite a few people there. He sent immediate thanks to the Maker that Connor was safely locked up in the Circle Tower, even with the terrible shape it was left in after Uldred and his miscreants attempted to take over control.

Word quickly got to Isolde that her husband had arrived. She ran out to greet Eamon and quickly drew him and Teagan into her tent. Of course, it was the largest one in the camp and the inside was almost as comfortable as their rooms in the palace. "Forgive these terrible accommodations, Teagan, but we had to leave in a hurry." And, of course, Isolde would open with a complaint.

Once proper refreshments were delivered and the servants and guards dismissed, Isolde moved her chair closer to Teagan and Eamon. She put her hand on Eamon's arm and began, "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons is making a play for Ferelden and the Emperor's chair, my husband. We thought he wouldn't dare to approach us during a Blight. But, he has taken Redcliffe!"

Eamon was barely controlling his temper. "Isolde, how did they just walk into the castle?"

The arlessa narrowed her eyes. "You left me with boys for protection, Eamon! I had no choice," she hissed.

"You could have closed the gate and held firm until we returned!" Eamon growled. "How did they get in? Did you just open the doors and invite them to dinner?!"

"How dare you!" That was always Isolde's opening salvo for a lengthy argument.

Teagan knew this needed to remain civil. "Please, Eamon … your ladyship … we cannot allow this to disintegrate into an argument. We need a plan."

He glared at Eamon. "You put us into the middle of Orlais' problems, brother. No doubt, Gaspard has his spies just as Celene does. He knew you were conspiring with the Empress. He was probably waiting at the border and when he received word that Redcliffe was barely protected, he decided to make his move. You cannot expect her ladyship to stand up to a troop of chevaliers on her own. Even the strong gates of Redcliffe castle will fall quickly without archers on the wall and veteran guards on the inside."

"Thank you, Teagan." Isolde was mollified for the moment.

But, Eamon wasn't. "What I did was the best way to assure Ferelden's continued prosperity, Teagan … and it would have worked if that damned Riordan had kept his mouth shut and let Alistair kill Loghain. I could have easily convinced the boy to execute Anora, leaving the opening for Alistair to marry Celene."

"Prosperity, brother? What about Ferelden's freedom?" Teagan allowed himself a little finger-pointing. "Anora didn't need to be executed, just sent back to Gwaren."

"We were counting on Gaspard and Celene's … disagreements … to play out in Orlais and keep them away." Isolde sighed. "Now, we must think on what our next move should be. The Game is a fluid thing, always changing, husband. A win is still possible, even with the loss of the rook … and the Queen."

Teagan sat up. "What?! Anora is lost?"

He didn't miss his brother's glare toward Isolde as Eamon explained, "The chevaliers in Denerim kidnapped Anora and took her to Jader."

"How do you know this?! We left as soon as the chevaliers were sent packing!" Teagan agreed that Anora had no noble blood and shouldn't remain queen, but he always liked her strength and intelligence. She was still the rightful heir to the terynir of Gwaren, bequeathed to Mac Tir by King Maric. And, Teagan certainly never wanted anything untoward to happen to Anora.

Eamon laughed harshly. "You think your heroics against the chevaliers caused them to run, Teagan? Anora's abduction was always in play. Once they got her, Her Radiance's Royal Captain Adalard pulled his troops back from the devastation of Denerim and returned to Jader."

"But Empress Celene still holds Highever and Amaranthine, yes?" Isolde was granted another of Eamon's glares.

Something broke in Teagan. His loyalty to Eamon had been wavering lately, but that announcement snapped it like a dry twig in summer. He rose from his chair so quickly that it fell backwards. Instead of throwing his fist into Eamon's face like every nerve in his body was telling him to do, he narrowed his eyes and spoke quietly. He jabbed his finger at Eamon's chest and bent close to his face. "The lowly pawn of the Empress has just made Ferelden into Orlais' gameboard." Before Eamon or Isolde could say anymore, Teagan turned to walk out the door. "I need some air."

Teagan walked the camp, helped to move a load of logs for the cooking fires, spoke with the villagers. None of them knew about the traitor who governed them. Teagan could no longer say that he knew his brother, either. But, what was he to do? He had gone along with approaching the Orlesians to help with the Blight. It sounded like a reasonable course of action since their differences had seemed to lessen with increased trade.

He'd even reluctantly gone along with the marriage of Cailan to Celene because a Theirin heir was paramount. However, that was the beginning of the rift between brothers. Teagan questioned why Eamon wouldn't even hear of matching Cailan to any noblewoman in Ferelden. _Maker_, he thought, _I've been a bigger pawn than Eamon._

As the evening fell, Eamon came out and made a big production of saying that he was leaving Teagan in charge of the encampment while he approached the citadel under a flag of truce. So, that was the next move that Isolde had decided upon. She would sacrifice her knight to save her next play on the board. Well, Teagan had had enough. He found the best rider and the fastest horse they had and sent a missive to Loghain. He didn't include everything. He had no proof, after all. However, he felt that Loghain needed to know that de Chalons now controlled Redcliffe … and that Eamon was his willing prisoner, presumably.

The next morning, Teagan was almost relieved when Isolde's maid Velana ran to him to tell him the Arlessa had fled in the night, taking several of Eamon's best soldiers and servants with her. No doubt, she was headed to Highever for the protection of Celene's men. Teagan could visualize the trauma of a lengthy horseback ride with Isolde. It was difficult to suppress the laugh that wanted to bubble to the surface. Teagan wondered if she expected him to follow her. If so, she was about to be disappointed. He knew he had to do whatever it took to distance himself from his brother and sister-in-law. He prayed that it wasn't too late to save his own head from rolling along with theirs.

* * *

Fergus made his way to the crossroads just west of Lothering. The devastation of the darkspawn filth was stronger to the east. Fergus was just one man and didn't think he'd have a chance of crossing the horde on his own, so he turned west and then, northwest, to head along the Imperial Highway to the east of Lake Calenhad. He considered going to Redcliffe first, but things had gotten chilly between Eamon and his father lately … and besides, he was in a hurry to see if Highever had survived the Blight … not to mention, he wanted to hold Oriana again and play sword of truthiness with Oren.

The road was surprisingly empty. By the middle of the second week of travel, Fergus came upon a small wagon being pulled by a mule. Two dwarves were walking alongside. "Wellmet, travelers!" Fergus hollered ahead.

When the older of the two jumped and turned around, Fergus raised his hands to show he wasn't a bandit. "You gave us a scare, messere! Me and my boy have been on our own since the army left for Denerim. Today's the first day I hazarded a few miles up on the highway rather than the surrounding lowlands."

Fergus smiled. "Well, I wouldn't mind trading my sword arm for some news and companionship. My name is Fergus."

The younger dwarf clapped and exclaimed, "Enchantment!" while the older one's eyes widened in recognition. "Would you be Fergus Cousland by any chance? You do look like Warden Kayda and she mentioned a missing brother."

"Warden Kayda?!" Fergus stopped advancing and sat on a piece of the roadway that jutted up. "Why is Kayda a warden?" Both dwarves gave him faces filled with sympathy. "I've been recuperating in the Wilds from a serious injury all this time. I passed Ostagar and assumed the battle there failed."

The older dwarf walked up to Fergus. "My name is Bodahn Feddic and this is my son, Sandal, my lord, and we would be honored to have your sword arm with us. Perhaps we can make it just a bit further to the ramp and find a good place to camp. I promise I will tell you what I know."

Later that night, Fergus sat in horror and disbelief. Bodahn was true to his word and began to tell him what was going on in Ferelden. He started with Rendon Howe's sacking of Highever and the deaths of Fergus' wife, child and parents. That was enough to put Fergus in a despondent fugue. He asked Bodahn to say no more for a few days. The only good thing he heard that evening was that Kayda had survived.

When asked to continue a few days later, Bodahn told of the loss at Ostagar, Kayda being thrust into life as a Grey Warden, all the trials thrown down by Howe and Loghain, the debacle at the Circle tower that Kayda and her companions had to rectify, Kayda killing Howe, Anora exiling some bastard of Maric's named Alistair and Kayda recruiting Loghain into the wardens, and the army heading to Denerim to stop the darkspawn horde and defeat the Archdemon. Leading the army was his sister Kayda and Warden Loghain. That was weeks ago. Bodahn hadn't heard anything beyond that.

They found a cave that already looked inhabited, but no one was around until a wild-haired apostate showed up. After a tense few moments, the two sides realized they weren't out to kill or capture the other side and Anders introduced himself. They decided to share the cave for the evening.

"I should have headed to Denerim," Fergus said later that evening, while staring into their small fire.

Anders, who had just returned from bathing in a nearby waterfall, said, "If you'd headed to Denerim, Fergus, you would have been walking right into the back of the horde." Anders then shared what he'd heard about the dragon dying, but not the Archdemon, and that Denerim was in shambles. As far as he'd heard from refugees heading west, Kayda was still alive, but no one knew for sure if Loghain still lived. He shrugged as he pulled his long wet hair back into a ponytail. "You spent all that time recuperating. It would have been a shame to waste it. Besides, Highever needs you."

Fergus looked thoughtfully at the mage. "Were you at the Circle Tower when it fell to demons?"

"Nah, I got out of there long before the demons hit. Fortunately, something happened one day and it kept the Templars busy long enough for me to get out. I'd already worked the mortar out of one side of the bars of my cell. Whatever had happened left the basement full of dead spirit guards and open doors, so I managed to get to the first floor where I saw a bunch of dead and unconscious Templars and mages. I stole the armor of one of the dead Templars and just walked out the front door."

Fergus sighed. "What have you heard from Highever?"

"Nothing in the last few weeks, since I had to …"

"Healer! Are you all right?" a voice came from outside the cave. "Are you there?"

Anders got up and peeked around the opening. "All good! Is that Roddy?"

"Aye, we have need of your services …" Ser Roderick Gilmore stopped to gape at Fergus who stepped around Anders. "Your Grace!" he cried followed by he and the four men, even the one being supported by the others took a knee.

"Get up, Roddy. Get that man inside so Anders can help him." Fergus knew his face told them of his sincere joy at seeing them all … Roddy Gilmore, Famar Withrup, Nathan Orad and Will Gilgan, who looked to have a serious leg injury. Three knights of Highever and the captain of the city guard for Highever.

As he started to work on Gilgan's leg, Anders continued, "I was doing a lot of this right after Howe attacked the castle." He nodded toward Roddy. "Gilmore found the deceased teryn and teryna … well, he knew the castle had fallen so he rounded up all the men he could and left to hide in the nearby forests."

Roddy grinned. "That's when we ran into a crazy man running around in his small clothes almost frozen to death."

"Yeah, I quickly discarded that dead Templar's armor. It was very uncomfortable and they take a dim view of impersonators." He finished cleaning the wound, said a few words and his hands began to glow. Fergus had infrequently seen magical healing before. It was fascinating and terrifying that the same time.

"Anyway, he helped heal our wounded so we got him some cloth armor and stole a staff off a dead mage helping Howe." Roddy looked at everyone else crowded in the cave. "You know, Your Grace, yes?"

Fergus only nodded. "Bodahn here tells me that Kayda killed Howe in Denerim. Do his men remain?"

Gilmore and Nathan glanced toward each other. "No, Your Grace, the chevaliers do."

Everyone stopped moving. Fergus hoped he'd heard wrong but was finding it difficult to put any thoughts into speech. Finally, he asked, "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not. It must have been the day after Anders decided to move here that they landed." Gilmore was seething. "We had just made a move to retake the castle and seven Orlesian ships dropped anchor in the harbor and several more docked. The men and horses on the ships that docked took over the city and the castle without any resistance."

Will struggled to sit up. "That is on my head, Your Grace. When I saw the overwhelming odds and …" he stopped to grin " … and when I saw them overrun and kill Howe's remaining men, I spread the word to the civilians to lay low, take orders and not cause trouble."

"Enemy of my enemy," Fergus mumbled. He looked to Gilmore. "How many resistance fighters do you have?"

"Over one-hundred, Your Grace. We could have easily retaken Highever from Howe's men, but then we'd have been overrun by the chevaliers." Gilmore sighed. "The Maker must be looking out for us."

"Lord Nathaniel's men are watching over Amaranthine. They reported that the chevaliers there seem to be using Vigil's Keep as a base." Famar's eyes widened when Gilmore glared at him. "Oh, we hadn't told you of his involvement."

"You're working with Nathaniel _Howe_!?" Fergus yelled, and then immediately wished he hadn't.

Roddy cleared his throat. "I was getting to that, Your Grace. Nathaniel showed up just before the Orlesians did."

"Convenient," Fergus grumbled.

"Actually, it was, Your Grace. He said that originally he'd returned to the Vigil to gather men to take his revenge on Kayda, but then he found Delilah in Amaranthine, married to a shopkeeper. She set him straight, but he still couldn't believe the stories out of Highever. He came to see for himself. So, we took him around Highever at night and he saw what his father's men had done, talked to the civilians about the atrocities committed at the castle." Roddy sighed and sat back on his heels. "He broke away from us and approached the castle. Originally, we thought he was going to turn us in, so we started to make arrangements to change base locations."

"Fortunately, I'd already set up here," Anders added.

"However, he returned as we were leaving for the new encampment." Roddy looked into Fergus' face. "He was devastated, Your Grace."

"An act," Fergus grumbled, unable to see the truth yet.

"I believed it was not an act, Your Grace. He had seen the castle, had to order a pyre for the midden where his father had thrown the bodies of your family. There was still blood on the stones in the larder. And, then, he had to leave the castle because the criminals his father had hired began to get suspicious. They came after him and caught him, Your Grace." Roddy stood to attention. "They tortured him … Howe's own son. I could not stand by and watch that so I ordered the men to rescue him." Roddy paused. "I admit that it felt good to finally kill some of the bastards."

Fergus knew he wouldn't believe Nathaniel was on their side until he saw it in the man's face. However, he knew that arguing with these men would resolve nothing, so he sighed. "Very well. Then, he went to the Vigil?"

"Yes, Your Grace. He left to return to the Vigil to gather information and see if there would be any way to retake it." Roddy cleared his throat. "We are to meet up with Lord Nathaniel in a few days near the road to Soldier's Peak so we can regroup and plan. It is fortuitous that you arrived when you did."

"What of Thomas?" Fergus asked.

"It is said that he perished at Ostagar; however, Arl Howe's men never made it that far, so Lord Thomas' death is unconfirmed." Roddy's stance hadn't wavered since he came to attention.

"For Maker's sake, Gilmore, at ease. I need some time to think about all this. I'll be at the waterfall." Fergus grabbed his pack and headed toward the place Anders had mentioned to get cleaned up. It would be bloody cold, but Fergus needed that. He was feeling like he'd gone to sleep in one Ferelden and awakened in a different, darker Ferelden. With all the talk of chevaliers and treason, it was almost like he'd been thrown back in time. How many times would the Ferelden rebellion need to be played out before they got it right?

* * *

**AN:** Thank you to all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

Have a great week all! See you next Sunday. :)


	7. Wardens and Rescuers

**Wardens and Rescuers**

Kayda gave Loghain leave from the wardens, but she didn't give him free unsupervised rein in Denerim. She still considered herself a noble of Ferelden and so did the majority of the few nobles left after months of civil war and darkspawn. Loghain was no longer the Hero of the River Dane. He was a subordinate.

Slim Couldry survived the Archdemon's attack and kept Kayda informed of activities in the city. Slim also had his people keeping an eye on the new warden, ex-regent. Loghain had pulled out a hastily approved martial law doctrine that had been approved by the Landsmeet a couple of years ago … and he invoked it, much to the distress of the nobles. Not enough distress to make them confront him and rescind it, however. After weeks of double checking, she had to admit that the man was doing a good job of getting Denerim back into shape. He even had Vaughn Kendells doing responsible work.

It left Kayda time to get the Denerim warden compound put back together. She couldn't believe the wealth of warden information that would have been available to her if Loghain hadn't lost his mind. The delayed knowledge about what they should have done with the remains of the dragon infuriated her. She discovered that part too late to recover all the blood that would have been available. Of course, she had no idea if the blood of the dragon was good enough for the Joining formula. The very first Grey Wardens must have used the blood of a dragon who passed its essence on, so it should work now … theoretically. They were only able to draw blood left in the deep places of the dragon. The rest had hardened and dried.

The head of the dragon hung over the gates to the palace. It wasn't really a victory over the Archdemon, but that dragon was damn hard to kill. The rest of the dragon went to the master armor smith Wade who thought he could make quite a few unique Ferelden warden gauntlets, imprinted with mabari as well as griffons.

They hadn't heard much from the rest of Ferelden until Delilah showed up with a report from her brother Nathaniel. A report that confirmed chevalier occupation of Highever and Amaranthine. Kayda had to remind herself that blaming Nathaniel and Delilah for Rendon's madness would only make her as evil as he was.

"Are the chevaliers marching on Denerim or the Bannorn?!" Loghain all but yelled at Delilah as he grabbed her arm. Delilah had presented herself to Kayda first, much to Loghain's chagrin, but Kayda invited him to attend the meeting along with Leonas Bryland.

"Stop it, Warden Loghain!" Kayda had given him a lot of leeway in establishing order in the city, but she wasn't about to let him act like a regent again. "Don't forget I can revoke your leave!"

Then, she saw it again. That glimmer of paranoid insanity that led to all this destruction. "You cannot keep me from defending Ferelden, Cousland," he replied quietly. "Alistair isn't the only one who can desert if he needs to."

Kayda narrowed her eyes at him. "You obviously cannot maintain objectivity here, so go downstairs and finish your meeting with the city quarter leaders. I'll debrief Delilah and come find you."

However, Delilah surprised them all by stopping Loghain and not flinching a bit when he turned his deathly gaze on her. "They do not, Your Grace." She glanced at Kayda. "Forgive me, Warden-Commander, but it is a valid question that the Teryn asks." She looked back to Loghain. "They seem content to maintain benign control over Highever and Vigil's Keep. The city of Amaranthine is strong behind Nathaniel's men, but there is still a chevalier presence there and no one knows Bann Esmerelle's status. Her seneschal is helping Nathaniel."

"No doubt they're waiting for reinforcements," Loghain growled. Then, he took a deep breath. "Thank you, Lady Delilah."

Delilah laughed. "Oh, not 'Lady' anything any longer, I'm afraid. I married the love of my life and should soon bear my dear Albert's child," she said as her hand unconsciously went to her middle.

Kayda beamed at her childhood friend. "That's wonderful news!"

"Yes, my congratulations," Loghain said as he turned and left the room. Leonas offered his own congratulations and then followed Loghain. Leonas had been acting as Loghain's assistant … and eyes for the nobility … in the reconstruction of the city.

"Do you trust him?" Delilah asked with a frown after Loghain and Bryland were gone.

Kayda knew which "him" Delilah was referring to. "Not really, but then, he doesn't trust me. And, neither of us has much to be proud of at the moment." Kayda sighed. "He's worried about Anora, as are we all. Only, he grows just a little more unstable with each day she's gone."

Kayda indicated that Delilah take a chair while she went to sit in the one next to it. "As for me, things are confusing now, more than anything. I spent all that time leading a group of friends around Ferelden, doing whatever it took to get the Dalish, the mages and the dwarves to honor ancient treaties with the Grey Wardens. Now, I find I'm at a loss. We failed due to ignorance, Delilah. Not our fault, but it is our failure."

The once quiet daughter of Rendon Howe looked around the Warden-Commander's office and smiled. "It appears that you are working through that to make your place here."

"The wardens will be sending someone else to fill the warden-commander position in Ferelden." Kayda huffed. "I'm not certain how I feel about that. I've given a lot to the wardens, and, on one hand, I feel entitled to the position. But, on the other hand, I can see it free me to assist in the defense of Ferelden, too."

"And, take orders from Loghain?" Delilah chuckled.

Kayda shook her head. "No. He is a warden on leave to get Denerim in shape. And, he realizes it. He's already working with some of Maric's Shield and the Royal Guard to renovate the army and chain of command. Some good men survived."

"I would have thought he'd put Ser Cauthrien up as general." Delilah was always so much smarter than anyone would give her credit for. _This Albert better realize what a treasure he had married_, Kayda thought to herself.

"Cauthrien will be the general of the armies once she returns from Kirkwall, hopefully with a ship full of refugees ready to repatriate. Loghain's working with Corger Baines to take over Cauthrien's role as leader of the Shield and the Royal Guard.

The rest of the visit was filled with remembrances of better times, but Delilah needed to see to the estate of the Arl of Amaranthine. She had no idea what shape it was in or even if she would be welcome there, but there were some personal things that she was going to try to retrieve.

Surprisingly, Loghain had arranged for her to have quarters at the palace and had men escort her to the small estate the next day. The mansion for the Arl of Amaranthine had been spared most of the destruction and taint, so, after a few days of cleaning and reorganization, Delilah left it for likely the last time … taking with her numerous crates of personal belongings which were stored in the palace awaiting word that she could return to her husband in Amaranthine.

Whenever she could, Kayda would spend time reading through tomes of Grey Warden lore — a bit of which she and Alistair had learned the hard way — and reports of Duncan's activities. To someone like Loghain, it seemed like Duncan did a poor job of organizing the Grey Wardens. However, it became clear that Duncan had few friends among the nobles, most of which forbade him access to their best fighters, saving them to serve the holding or Ferelden's army. More often than not, Duncan was offered recruits who were prisoners, apostates or just plain too lazy for any work of value. Consequently, Duncan could muster only a few trusted wardens by the time the first large incursion of darkspawn was spotted in the Korcari Wilds.

Curiously, bits of Duncan's journal that hadn't been destroyed by Howe mentioned that Duncan had consistently requested help from the First Warden but never heard a response. He had to go through Cailan to get Empress Celene to send Orlesian wardens. Unfortunately, she tacked on the questionable caveat of chevaliers to escort them. When Kayda pieced together one of the earlier entries, she suspected why Duncan wasn't hearing back from the First Warden. All of Duncan's reports and requests had to be sent through Jader. Kayda suspected Orlesian interference. Riordan seemed reasonable enough, but he wasn't in charge of the Orlesian warden compound there. Despite Alistair's altruistic view of warden neutrality, it became clear that the upper echelon of the wardens was greatly influenced by Orlais. And so, any requests from Ferelden were likely thrown into the fire.

When Kayda, Loghain and the companions returned to Ostagar after the Landsmeet, they found that Cailan's relationship with Celene was a lot stronger … and more personal … than anyone had known. Double that with Eamon's letter to set Anora aside and it gave Loghain the ammunition to deduce that Cailan just wanted to play at being Emperor. He was going to set Anora aside and marry Celene. Wynne brought up that the marriage might have brought peace. Loghain explained the meaning of peace under Orlesian rule … even in Orlais. Kayda kept silent during that conversation, because she tended to agree more with Loghain.

With the chevaliers' abduction of Anora and occupation of Highever, Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep, Kayda's agreement now went even further. Loghain had been right to refuse the Orlesian wardens and chevaliers before Ostagar. Of course, she'd never tell that to Loghain.

On a lighter note, Kayda had also unearthed several crates of warden tabards and other warden-emblazoned items recently. There weren't going to be many wardens for a while, but they would at least look uniform. In that, she differed from Duncan's preference. Hopefully, the new warden-commander would agree.

In addition to the blood from the dragon, once Archdemon, Kayda found the supply of Joining components intact. She thanked the Maker that Howe hadn't destroyed it. Two elf archers from the alienage and three Dalish warriors, along with six blight-sick soldiers survived a Joining soon after the battle, so now, Ferelden had thirteen wardens … well, twelve until Loghain declared martial law to be over … or such a declaration was taken out of his hands. Fortunately, the six soldier wardens were well-trained fighters and one had been a lieutenant. Kayda made Lieutenant Aveline Vallen a senior warden and put her in charge of the Denerim compound when Kayda … or the new warden-commander … wasn't around. As soon as the city appeared to be settled and the new warden-commander arrived, Kayda was going to begin a lengthy recruiting mission. For the time being, she also released the new wardens to help with the cleanup in Denerim.

A knock on her office door caused her to raise her head. Wynne came in. "I just had a few minutes and thought I'd see how you're doing."

The woman walked in with a small bottle of amber liquid. Kayda knew it was peach brandy so she got up to get two glasses out of nearby sideboard. "I found these in all this stuff." She looked at the well-crafted glasses with the rampant griffon on them. "I could almost hear Alistair get all excited about finding them."

"You miss him, don't you." She opened the bottle and poured a rather large amount of brandy in each glass before she took a seat across from Kayda. "We all do, dear."

Kayda sipped her brandy. "It all turned out so stupid. I just thought I was adding a fourth warden. I thought I could convince Alistair to put aside his vengeance."

"I don't think anyone thought Alistair would stand up to you and Anora like that." She chuckled. "I must admit that I think I was a little impressed."

After swirling the brandy for a moment, Kayda smiled. "I was, too." She took a sip. "So was Loghain, you know."

With the mention of Loghain's name came the usual deep sigh from Wynne. "I suppose as things turned out, it was good that he was still around. Now that he's been humbled, one thing he seems to be good at is keeping things in check. The clean up is going much faster than anyone suspected and he's been more than helpful with the healers as far as giving us space in the palace."

"Hah, when Zev and Leliana bring Anora back, she's going to kill him for emptying out the coffers." Kayda smiled. She knew Anora well enough to say that with some certainty. One summer, Eleanor Cousland determined that her daughter needed to learn to travel by sea and arranged a long sea voyage to Gwaren. Highever owed its existence to the sea, both in the bounty of food it offered and the sea trade. So, Kayda was put on a ship along with Fergus and Bryce and they sailed all the way around Ferelden, stopping in Gwaren for a couple of months before making the return trip. The teenaged Kayda proudly made the round trip without a single bout of seasickness! The crew made her an honorary member.

It was then that Kayda and Anora got to know each other fairly well. It was also then Kayda learned how much Anora hated the idea of marrying Cailan. Oh, she wanted to be Queen of Ferelden, but really couldn't stand being around the boy who was going to be the king. In truth, Kayda didn't much care for Cailan either. He was polite and all, but he would walk around with his head in the clouds. Kayda knew Anora well enough to push all the right buttons for her to turn against her father in the Landsmeet. But, Kayda didn't know Alistair enough to realize how he would react to Loghain's recruitment. Kayda twirled the brandy in her glass. "I hope they bring Anora back soon. Before Loghain completely loses his mind."

Wynne just reached over the desk and patted Kayda's hand. "They will." She chuckled. "You know Zevran would do anything for you … as would Leliana."

"I miss him, too. And Leliana. And Sten. He left for Seheron yesterday. And Shale. She went back to Orzammar, but she might return after a while." Kayda frowned. "I don't miss Morrigan, but I'd like to know where she went off to." Kayda looked over her glass at Wynne. "You know, I was just reading about blood magic use in the Grey Wardens and it made me think of our mission in the Circle Tower. Killing all the demons and abominations … that part I could handle. Being thrown into the Fade by that sloth demon scared me out of my wits and still gives me nightmares on the nights when the darkspawn don't take up my dreams. It gave me a new appreciation of what mages have to live with … and makes me fear what Morrigan could turn into someday."

"We either learn early how to cope or we don't. Even apostates like Morrigan." Wynne shrugged.

Kayda leaned forward. "How can you seem so calm? I still feel horribly guilty about Jowan. I thought sending him into the Fade to save Connor… and hoping he succeeded … would show he was worthy of redemption."

"Jowan was a very tragic case. He was doomed from the moment he decided to use blood magic to escape the Tower. You didn't know that Greagoir and Irving would consider him a harrowed mage after going into the Fade to destroy Connor's demon." Wynne finished her glass of brandy. "Harrowed mages can't be made tranquil … so, he was executed." She gave Kayda her 'grandmother smile', as Alistair used to call it. "He wouldn't have escaped execution out of the Tower either. He _did_ poison Arl Eamon." Then, the old mage stood with a bit of a groan. "And, now, I must get back to work." She looked around the office. "You've made a lot of progress on cleaning all this up."

"Yep … all for the new Warden-Commander," Kayda mumbled.

Wynne frowned. "It all seems unfair to you."

"The new First Warden Renato Constanda was pretty civil about the whole failure to kill the Archdemon thing and wants my report. I'm working on it … sometimes, it's hard to keep civil, to tell the truth. He also said he wanted to receive a report from Loghain's standpoint. I haven't mentioned it to Loghain yet. Curiously, the First Warden wants the reports sent to the warden compound in Cumberland where he plans to be for a while."

Wynne looked confused. "That is curious. I thought the First Warden stayed in Weisshaupt."

Kayda picked up a parchment and said, "I guess not. His letter said, 'After reading a recent report about the untenable situation you had to endure in Ferelden, I do not believe either you or Warden Loghain culpable in any way. However, I need you to know that I will be sending another to fill the role of Warden-Commander in Ferelden. This should, in no way, be considered a demotion or punishment. It is simply putting someone in command who is highly recommended by someone I trust.' No name is mentioned, but Constanda is a Nevarran name and not Orlesian, maybe that's why he's relocated to Cumberland."

"You can't possibly be all right with that." Wynne crossed her arms.

Kayda shrugged. "I don't know, so I'm choosing to wait until this person shows up." After Wynne only sighed again and left the office, Kayda re-read the report. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she was glad to pass the reins off to someone else. Sitting behind a desk wasn't her. Shuffling papers certainly wouldn't be her choice of activity. But, being demoted did grate on her a bit … until she would remind herself that she hdd never been officially _promoted_ in the first place.

* * *

Zevran was relieved when Isabella finally dropped anchor a dozen or so miles east of Jader. One of Isabella's crew rowed Zevran and Leliana to the shore. The _Siren's Call_ should have been faster than the laden Orlesian ships, but Isabella insisted on taking a circuitous course to mask that they were following. He guessed they were about a week behind the Orlesians.

"The Capt'n said she'd try her best to stay near here for as long as she could. But, if we're not out there when you get back, just wait a bit in that cove. Smugglers use it, so it ain't the safest, but it don't look like you two worry much about smugglers."

"No, my friend, I think we'll be fine. You are going to row here every nightfall if the _Siren's Call_ is still anchored here, yes?" Zevran asked while looking around the area they were about to land.

"Yep," he said as the small boat hit the sand of the beach. "The road's a bit that direction." He pointed away from the shore. "Keep off it. Patrols are likely increased with what's going on in Ferelden."

Leliana nodded. "Let's try to get to Jader as quickly as possible, Zevran. I still need to figure out a way to get into the _Château Frontiére_."

As they started toward the road, Zevran edged closer. "I am completely at your mercy here. It is very thrilling!"

"I've been to Jader a number of times, Zevran. There's an entrance to the sewers on this side of the wall." She giggled when Zevran gagged. "Don't worry, it's really a fake sewer entrance. All Orlesian cities have some sort of bard tunnels underneath. Since Marjolaine is dead, I'm hoping her hideout here is unused. It would be helpful." Leliana shrugged. "If it is in use by others, then we need to find a quiet inn somewhere with quick access to a tunnel entrance."

"Where is the warden establishment in Jader? Kayda wished us to see if they knew what happened in Denerim if we had time. Maybe they know a good place to stay?" Zevran asked the question but really didn't relish walking into a warden compound in an Orlesian city.

Leliana sighed. "I didn't say we would definitely visit the wardens. I didn't want to upset Kayda any more than she already was. And, we had no time to double back to the palace. We cannot make ourselves known in Jader beyond finding and rescuing the Queen."

"So, will you now tell me what those documents say? You said you would once we were off the ship and 'away from prying ears' as humorous as the mental image of that was." Zev pulled back some lower branches on a tree.

"There is more afoot, Zevran. Arl Eamon is a traitor to Ferelden and a dupe of Orlais. I didn't leave them with Kayda because she … well, she is not the one they need to go to first." Unconsciously, Leliana pulled her pack closer to her side.

Zev whistled. "So, the man who abused our Alistair as a child and then played the gracious, magnanimous host and erstwhile supporter of Alistair for the throne is an agent for the Empress?"

"Yes, and the one who kept his mouth shut when Anora threatened to execute Alistair since he was of no more use to him." Leliana was furious.

"_Dovrei visto che!?_" Zev grumbled quietly.

"I should have seen that, too, Zevran. He fooled us all." Leliana huffed. "If he still lives when we return … and somehow escapes Anora's wrath … it will be up to us to redeem our professional pride."

"I forget you speak Antivan." The assassin chuckled. "And, yes, I agree. I shall ponder the best ways to make him suffer greatly for a long, long time while he dies."

Leliana looked at him in surprise. "You scare even me, sometimes!"

Zevran only chuckled. For the rest of the walk to this fake sewer entrance, the two of them remained quiet. Once they got through the underground tunnels to the hideout of Marjolaine, they unfortunately found it occupied. Surprisingly enough, the voices they overheard through the trap door were Nevarran. So, Leliana backtracked to the nearest exit and they found themselves in an alley behind a tavern.

It took Leliana only a few moments to get her bearings once they made their way to the busy street. It was mid-morning. As they looked for a likely nondescript inn, they passed right by the warden compound's open-iron gate. Inside, they were both shocked and pleasantly surprised to see Alistair beating up on a training dummy in the warden compound courtyard. A man came out, talked to Alistair and they both walked away.

Zevran purred, "He looks very handsome with the longer hair, don't you think? Much like I would think his father looked. I may have cause to become jealous."

Leliana grabbed Zevran's arm. "Not now, Zev!" But, she still chuckled quietly. "There's a tunnel below here. We used to have free access through the warden compound. It was an easy exit into the city when our enemies were about in the tunnels. But, the Warden-Commander of Jader is an Orlesian and very loyal to Celene, last I heard." Shock reached her eyes, "You don't think Alistair …?"

Leliana answered her own question at the same time as Zevran. She said, "No."

But, Zev shrugged and replied, "Maybe. Can you get us onto the grounds, Leliana?" Zevran asked as he watched Alistair and the other warden enter one of the larger buildings.

She frowned and then sighed. "Of course. I told you the Warden-Commander was Orlesian, didn't I? But, first, we listen at what goes on in the Commander's office first." At Zevran's grin, she added, "The exit is in a storeroom behind the Warden-Commander's office. You'd be surprised what gets discussed by the wardens."

* * *

**AN**: Thank you for all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

_thepkrmgc_, welcome! Yes! It's only paranoia if it isn't true! hehe ;) Just having a bit of fun with an alternate ending. I hope you continue to enjoy it. :)


	8. A Fool and a Father

**A Fool and a Father**

After Eamon weighed Isolde's arguments, he decided he would approach the castle under a flag of truce. Teagan refused to join Eamon. In fact, Teagan was furious with his older brother. His cries of, "I told you this would happen!" could be heard all over the small camp. But, that was all right with Eamon. He preferred that Teagan stay behind and keep his ears open. Eamon knew he could sway Teagan to tell any and all secrets later. His younger brother never could keep a secret.

Not surprisingly, the Orlesians opened the gates to Eamon and showed him inside the castle. Isolde explained that their honor would allow nothing less. "The Grand Duke is busy at the moment, but he is most anxious to speak with you. If you would like, we will show you to your guest room." The girl had worked for the Guerrins all her life … and now she was working for Gaspard de Chalons. Eamon supposed it was his own fault. He preferred that all the servants feel as though they worked for the entity of the arling and not for any particular person. Easier to keep emotions out of things. Of course, the girl could have been a spy for de Chalons all along. The thought did cross Eamon's mind that this girl stayed behind while Isolde took her other servants with her. He knew he would need to be careful while a "guest" of de Chalons.

Teagan had, no doubt, sent word back to Loghain about what was going on in Redcliffe as soon as Eamon left. He would write Loghain that the Orlesian Gaspard had taken over the castle because Isolde had opened the door to them and let them in. Eamon didn't hold out hope for a rescue from that quarter. Loghain would likely wave his warden neutrality and let Eamon rot, starve and die in the inevitable siege to come.

No, Eamon's only hope would come from the unlikely source of Empress Celene. Gaspard was not one of Celene's supporters. He was an adversary who wanted to be Emperor. Once he regained the "province" of Ferelden back again, he would be in a very strong position to get it, too. Eamon had to play things very wisely with Gaspard. Perhaps the man didn't know about Eamon's arrangement with Celene. He surely knew of Isolde's family's loyalty to the Empress.

The girl showed Eamon to the same guest room that Kayda Cousland had used when she was at the castle. He had to control his temper at being relegated to such a small room. _At least it's not a dungeon cell_, he reminded himself.

Eamon freshened up with the basin in the room and stretched out to calm down and prepare for his meeting. After an interminable amount of time, a knock at the door preceded the girl's voice. "Dinner will be in one half-hour. Do you require anything?"

He forced a bit of a chuckle. "Some of my dinner clothing would be nice unless the Grand Duke is using my clothes as well as my bed."

"I will see to it." And, true to her word, she arrived a few minutes later with a boy carrying two armloads of clothes which they hung into the small armoire. It eased his fears a bit to think that they'd given him enough clothes for a long stay. Eamon shoo'd them away and got dressed for dinner. Isolde warned him that this dinner would be his only chance to influence Gaspard. His code of honor dictated that an enemy be shown every courtesy until that enemy threatened a tenet of that code. Isolde carefully told him just how to approach the Grand Duke. To summarize the conversation, she said for Eamon to maintain his strength and claim to Redcliffe. Never allow Gaspard to think he is the new Arl.

Eamon arrived in the dining hall early. The servants were busy setting the long table and luscious aromas were escaping the kitchens. After years with Isolde, Eamon had come to prefer Orlesian style cooking. He took a deep breath and sat in his usual place at the head of the table. The move was his to make if he ever wished to take back the castle.

The servants that Gaspard must have brought with him were aghast, but kept their tongue.

Soon, a deep-throated laugh filled the room. It came from behind him, but he didn't turn around. "It would seem that you have forgotten your place, Guerrin."

Strong hands lifted the chair Eamon was sitting in and unceremoniously dumped him out of it. Isolde must have been a little rusty on the finer points of chevalier honor. Fortunately, Eamon landed on his feet instead of sitting on the floor. He turned, straighten his tunic, and replied, "This place _is_ mine, de Chalons. As it has always been."

The men guided Eamon to sit in a chair to the left of Gaspard and fairly well made it clear that he _would_ sit there. Gaspard sat at the head of the table. "Ah, but that is not entirely true, is it? For many decades it was an Orlesian sitting in this chair … as one is sitting in it now." He snapped his fingers and the food service was started. "In fact, I believe the man who sat in it before was your father-in-law, yes?" Again, Gaspard laughed. "A weak man who thought obscurity would allow him his depravities away from Val Royeaux. It was a tactical error of our previous Emperor to place such a man here." Gaspard leaned forward. "A much stronger man sits here now."

After tasting the wine, Eamon knew it had come from his own cellars. "You sit in my chair and you drink my wine." He stopped there. Eamon wasn't sure he wanted confirmation on anything else Gaspard had done.

"You wonder if I bedded your wife, Guerrin?" Again, he laughed. "No, I can barely stand her screeching voice while having a conversation. I can't imagine I could attain any sort of pleasure hearing her screeching in the bedroom."

"I didn't realize that insults to a guest were part of the chevalier code." Eamon thought he would call the man on his manners.

The laugh turned into a sneer. "But, you are not a guest. You are a prisoner … and a fool. You claim to be a great negotiator and diplomat, but you have been played by your own wife. She told me she would send you to me if I let her go. Your place on the board is forfeit. I do not respect you, Guerrin, and the chevalier code does not bind me to any whom I do not respect."

Eamon's heart beat solidly in his chest. It was fear. Isolde had lied to Eamon to save herself. She told him to act the very way that would anger de Chalons, not the way that would gain the Orlesian's respect. When Eamon noticed the guards take a step closer to his chair, he knew it to be true.

Gaspard leaned back in his chair. "And so, what shall I do to the easily vanquished enemy? The man who once sat in this chair and ruled his land into destruction and despair? The boy who had to be sent away while the brave of his country fought a rebellion?"

"You will need food and supplies, de Chalons. Ransom me for those." Eamon wondered if his plea sounded as pathetic to Gaspard as it did to his own ears.

He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "Loghain is in charge of Denerim and I doubt he will pay any kind of ransom … since he did try to have you poisoned. Your woman was most forthcoming. She has fled to Her Radiance's protection by now. Your brother stands to gain status by the stupidity of his elder brother. So, I wonder … what kind of satisfaction can I get from the capture of such an impotent enemy leader of no value while alive?"

* * *

The next morning, Teagan found his brother's head jammed onto a road sign, only blood and ichor where the eyes once were. Teagan had heard of putting the head of one's enemy on a pole, but never the cruelty of gouging out an enemy's eyes as well. One of the signpost arrows had been reoriented to point to the head. A note was tacked below. It said, "And, so the Fool is removed from the board."

"Dragon!" All eyes gratefully left the sight of Eamon's decapitation and followed the angle of Murdock's pointing finger. "Two dragons!"

Murmurs of "Two Archdemons?!" swiftly swept through the crowd, but these dragons looked different from the monster that had terrorized Denerim. Teagan had a close view of the beast as it swept over the area where he was fighting near the gate. It swooped low to drop a large tower remnant on the soldiers.

"No, those are not like the Archdemon we fought in Denerim!" Teagan and the others watched the pair of dragons fly southeast toward the Korcari Wilds. "Maker help us, two dragons can't be much better."

"Nay, Your Grace!" Tomas cried. "A dragon heralded the success of Teryn Loghain at the River Dane and we just got the luck of two dragons!"

Teagan cringed at the honorific the villagers were already placing on his head, but he kept silent. Morale was a powerful thing and he wasn't about to squelch it for the few gathered here. He smiled and squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Perhaps you are right, Tomas. Let's hope so." Then, he sighed and removed his cloak, slipping it over Eamon's head as he pulled it from the post. The sound alone almost made him retch. "But, first we need to honor our dead. Get this to Mother Hanna," he told Murdock as he handed him the gory bundle. "Ask her to coordinate a pyre for Eamon. He motioned to a couple other men next to him. "Let's have a look around for the rest of his body."

They found it quickly, dressed in his finest dinner attire, tossed into a nearby ditch. While the grim men carried the body back to the makeshift Chantry tent, Teagan's thoughts was spinning, _Highever and Amaranthine are taken by Celene's forces while Redcliffe is taken by Gaspard's._ He was surprised that the villagers weren't more horrified than they were by all this. Perhaps Gaspard was counting on righteous indignation to rise up to avenge Eamon, or perhaps he just didn't want to waste any food on a prisoner … a stupid one who just walked right into his hands.

Teagan hadn't heard of any trouble in the Bannorn, but then there were damn few freeholders left. Ferelden had lost more soldiers to death and blight-sickness than they currently could muster for a siege. The country's resources were depleted or tainted. A simple thought floated to the surface:_ they are here to fight each other … perhaps, we should let them._

* * *

The report of Fergus Cousland being alive arrived the day before the report about Redcliffe also being under the control of chevaliers. Fergus Cousland was leading the men of the north to reclaim Highever and Amaranthine. Teagan made no mention of his plans. Typical Guerrin non-commitment. Loghain sent a reply requesting more details and asking Teagan what his plans were. Loghain sent an apology, as well. There were no reinforcements to send anywhere at this time.

Loghain had no opinion of Fergus. Cailan had sent him out to do some scouting at Ostagar and he never returned. Everyone presumed he was dead. Bryce Cousland was a good enough leader during the rebellion. Whether or not Bryce turned traitor could still not be confirmed since Rendon Howe held all his evidence at Vigil's Keep. It rankled at Loghain that the chevaliers were now at Vigil's Keep in full possession of anything Howe may have stashed there. However, there was nothing Loghain could do about it right now. They had no men to send north. Denerim was only just getting the basic necessities organized. And, Anora still wasn't home yet. He would go no where until she was returned or until he got proof that she had perished. Loghain was forced to trust that Fergus would know what to do.

It was easy enough to slip into the mindset that Howe had employed to gain Loghain's trust … that all Couslands were traitors to Ferelden and Orlesian sympathizers … but Kayda had influenced Loghain to see the error of his past ways. She was an infuriating woman, but she was no Orlesian sympathizer. Loghain almost felt pity for her when she found out the First Warden was sending another to be Ferelden's Warden-Commander. Almost.

Fergus' report included the outcome of a meeting between himself and Nathaniel Howe, after they both worked out their frustrations on each other for what Rendon did to Highever and for Kayda murdering the elder Howe in revenge. Cousland had a spy in the castle at Highever who also worked in the kitchens. The seneschal of Vigil's Keep was still alive. He found out about Nathaniel's group and was keeping the Howe boy apprised of the activities there. Some Orlesian wardens showed up at Vigil's Keep. The darkspawn were still active up there for some reason and either killed or dragged off all those wardens. It was an odd thing. Darkspawn taking prisoners. Kayda was still reading through warden documents about it. Loghain stored it away as a possible reason for him to go north to investigate the darkspawn … and aid in the retaking of the Vigil.

Seemingly, in the city of Amaranthine, the chevaliers couldn't make a trip to the piss pot without it being noted and reported to Nathaniel.

But, that was all they could do for now. Gather information and hope for some weakness to make itself visible or for the chevaliers to step outside their reinforced walls. At the beginning, the chevaliers would send their underlings out on patrol of the neighboring lands. When those patrols were ambushed and killed, they stopped.

At this time, there weren't enough Ferelden reinforcements that could be sent to make an assault. Loghain was working on that. He prayed the ships he'd sent to gather any refugees would bring back some able-bodied men.

The very next day, Teagan's report about chevaliers in Redcliffe arrived. Apparently, according to Teagan, these were led by Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, an enemy of Celene. And, that idiot brother of his marched right into Gaspard's hands under a flag of truce. Of course, since delicate Eamon, as a boy, had been sent north, he didn't remember how chevaliers viewed a "turnip" flag of truce. They usually burned it … after they pissed on it and ground it into the face of the bearer. Honor was not a thing reserved for any Ferelden.

And, Anora was still missing. Loghain was beside himself. They had heard nothing from the bard or the Crow about Anora. He still had a military reorganization to get into shape for Cauthrien when she returned and a city to get back under some kind of control … but he felt the grip on his sanity slipping a bit with every day that passed with no news of his daughter.

It may have appeared petty and spiteful to some, but Loghain reveled in the fact that Kayda was also unable to run north to see her brother. She was as much a prisoner in Denerim as he was. She was the acting Ferelden Warden-Commander … and his nursemaid, so appointed by the cowardly nobles who were afraid that Loghain would try to take the throne. He never wanted the Maker-damned throne. Never. His involvement was always to support Anora and keep the wolves at bay who would wrest the crown from her head. Thoughts of Anora only served to make him more ill-tempered, but he found he could think of little else. She was all he had left.

"Loghain, you must make some time to finish your report." Kayda walked up and stood across the long assignments table with her arms folded. _And, oh yes_, he thought to himself, _I also have to write a bloody report for the First Warden._

"I'll get to it," he growled.

She blinked and then sighed. "I'm sorry."

He would never understand this infernal woman. "Wha … for which of the many things are you apologizing today?"

"Do you always have to be a horse's ass, Loghain?! For Maker's sake!" She huffed and put her balled-up hands on her hips. "For making you a warden."

That made Loghain laugh. "Of all the things you could apologize for that's not one I require an apology for. My choices were bloody well limited by that time. Joining the wardens or having Maric's bastard lop off my head."

She glared. "His name is Alistair."

"And, there we have it." Loghain threw down the sheaf of parchments he was holding. They were hardly alone in the Landsmeet chamber, now headquarters for the reconstruction. Both Bryland and Kendells stopped what they were doing and openly listened to the exchange. Sighard was heading out, but turned to listen. "You aren't apologizing to me, Cousland. You're sorry your actions made Alistair bolt. You're sorry your actions left you with only me and Riordan to fight the Archdemon. You're sorry you're such a failure." Even Loghain had to admit that last one was low.

Even though her face told him that she had a lot more to yell at him, all she did was spin on her heel and march out of the room.

Kendells mumbled with a chuckle, "Well, that was a bit harsh." He held up his hand to avert any blows from Loghain. "I happen to agree with you, Loghain."

Bryland leaned back in his chair. "What would you have done if she and Alistair had approached you right off, Loghain?"

Loghain picked up the parchments again. "I'd have probably given them over to Howe to get information out of them."

"And, so, you berate Kayda for being a failure, when you know that Howe would have killed her and Alistair and given you nothing but what your own ego wanted to hear." Then, he chuckled. "The result would have been the exact same. No warden to kill the Archdemon."

"No, Bryland, it wouldn't have been the same." Loghain almost choked on the words as he said, "Without the armies Cousland and Maric's bastard raised, Ferelden would now be seething in the Blight and we would all be dead." Loghain sat and stared out the high window of the chamber. It all came down to his own ignorance of warden history: the Archdemon had only been slain by a Grey Warden all four times before. That was a recorded fact, whether or not, Loghain would have known why it took a warden, exactly. And, his ignorance of how things worked in Ferelden: the freeholders ruled, not the other way around. He was a thrice-damned fool to have believed Howe. Anora tried to explain it to him, but he didn't listen to her.

"And, in the end, Anora wouldn't have been queen anyway, my old friend." Leonas Bryland spoke those words kindly. The man had a true grasp on why Loghain did all the things he did. Bryland also had a daughter. Habren and Anora were nothing alike, of course, but they were daughters of men who would move Thedas to protect them.

"Well, if you old men are finished wallowing in all the mistakes you made getting Ferelden to this point, I'd like to discuss the alienage." Kendells walked over to Loghain and rolled out a parchment.

"We're not going to make it your private whorehouse," Loghain growled.

That got Loghain a glare, "Well, there aren't many elves left, are there, Loghain?" Then, he took a deep breath and continued, "I think we should do away with the alienage altogether. Let their employers find them housing. All of the noble estates have servants quarters that go empty."

"Then, you're saying that each noble should have their own alienage?" Bryland was slightly aghast, but listening.

"Not at all, I'm saying that the elves either become part of the community or they should be free to leave and join the Dalish." Kendells was serious about this. "We haven't done them any favors by putting them in one location to …" Kendells had the grace to look embarrassed. "… to be abused by the nobility or the city guard."

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "Have you spoken to Hahren Valendrian about this?"

Kendells frowned. "Yes, and he came back with a long-winded story about the tradition of elves and that they wanted to stay together next to that tree of theirs. However, some of the other elves I spoke to, liked the idea."

"And Shiani?" Bryland asked with a harsh face.

"She's an insane female who needs to be incarcerated." Loghain hadn't seen Kendells' hateful face in a while.

"Funny, she says the same about you." No one had seen Wynne enter the room. "Even the female part."

"Really, Loghain, isn't this chamber ever private?" Kendells rolled up the parchment. Loghain hadn't missed that it was a blueprint of new warehouses and stores to be built in place of the old alienage.

"No, it isn't, Kendells. Leave that with me and I'll take it under advisement." Kendells looked surprised, but left the roll of parchment and excused himself for a luncheon date with Habren.

"You're really all right with your daughter marrying him, Leonas?" Loghain couldn't believe that Vaughan Kendells recent rationality would last once things returned to some semblance of normal in Denerim.

"Of course not, but there are few options left for Habren right now." He sighed and stood to leave himself. "My girl has encouraged this. I think she wants to be Arlessa of Denerim."

"He may not be confirmed, Leonas. You know what Wulff thinks of him." Loghain hated these matchmaker conversations but Leonas had proven a friend and competent leader.

"I agree with Wulff and so does almost everyone else." Leonas shrugged. "We'll see if she comes to her senses."

After Leonas left and the two of them were alone, Wynne gave Loghain an accounting of how the hospital had been spending their budget. "He's going to eavesdrop on the couple, isn't he?" she asked.

Loghain laughed. "Most likely, madam." He looked over the list. "You actually have extra."

Wynne paused. "I heard about what you're trying to do in Tevinter, so we're being as frugal as we can be. I'm sure buying back all our elves won't be cheap."

"No, it likely won't be." He lowered his voice. "Please keep that information to yourself. I don't want anyone to get their hopes up for any kind of success."

"No one knows, Loghain." She gave him a smile, rare for him to receive from the old woman. "I read over the exchequer's shoulder and noticed the entry." But, the friendliness was short-lived. She frowned. "I hope it works … for the sake of your soul."

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

_Pervinca T (or katydid)_, thank you so much for your nice review! :) Perhaps this tale is a bit more realistic … but, as for a game, it would suck to play all the way through Origins and fail! LOL! These ideas just keep percolating up and insist on being written. Thank you Mr. Gaider for developing such a wonderful world!


	9. Rescue and Escape

**Rescue and Escape**

The Orlesians made no secret of the poor Queen of Ferelden's presence in Jader … there because she needed the Orlesian's help. At first, that just made Alistair angry, even though he kept trying not to care. He wished he could turn off his conscience and just look the other way … but that would make him as blind as Loghain had been. Then, one night he woke up from a nightmare and realized how he could use the situation to his advantage. After Alistair suffered a week of little sleep and much anxiety, he knew what he needed to do. He started the process to be approved to visit Anora as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

The Warden-Commander of Ferelden … another reason for Alistair's anxiety and sleeplessness.

Just as he was finishing his morning training routine, Commander Alman sent for him. He didn't have too long before the time of his scheduled afternoon audience with Anora. However, he had enough time for a quick bath before donning his armor and new commander tabard, wanting to look as official as possible. Alman had already arranged a ship to head to Ferelden that evening with supplies and additional armor and armaments for the warden compound in Denerim. Alistair wasn't supposed to leave for another week, but he packed all his personal items and had them ready anyway. He had no idea what was going to happen when he saw Anora. If an opportunity arose, he might have to make a quick getaway.

Alistair entered Alman's office and returned the book that was loaned to him that first night. "Thank you for letting me borrow that, Commander. I wish I'd had it a year ago, after Ostagar."

Alman frowned. "Things might have gone much differently, eh? I'll tell you what. Keep it." He paused. "We may be moving this compound soon." He paused again. "Alistair, I'm afraid I have some news that might impact the timing of your return to Ferelden."

Alistair sat in one of the two chairs in front of Alman's desk and laughed. "You know, I'm going to quit coming in here if all you're going to do is give me more news to keep me up at night, Commander."

"I will miss your sense of humor, Alistair … and call me Alman. We are of equal rank now." He went to a sideboard. For the first time, Alistair noticed that Alman had also started to pack. The Nevarran filled two glasses with something amber and likely alcoholic and handed one to Alistair. He sat in the other guest chair and leaned forward. "The Nevarran fleet is headed to Jader and will be attacking with the dawn. You need to take the supply ship to Denerim tonight. The rest of the wardens … the wardens that I trust … will be taking another ship to Cumberland at the same time."

Alistair set the untouched glass down and got up from his chair. He felt like throwing the glass at a wall. "You do realize that the Queen of Ferelden is in the palace here, don't you, Alman?"

"I do. And, I am sorry about that, but I don't see how we can do anything about it. We aren't supposed …" Alman didn't get the chance to finish.

"Don't you dare quote warden neutrality to me … Alman," Alistair shouted in the Jader Commander's face as he grabbed the man's tunic and drew him up out of his chair. "A good friend of mine once told me that I had to learn that everyone was only out for themselves. Thank you for teaching me the final chapter in that lesson."

"Alistair." Alman pulled his tunic from Alistair's fist. To his credit, he didn't try to step away from the very angry Ferelden. "I will not insult you by mentioning warden neutrality, but this is not your war. Go home and be what the wardens should be."

"Not my war?!" Quietly but very distinctly, Alistair hissed, "Just what do you think the Orlesians will do when _your_ Nevarran navy attacks? They'll kill Anora and blame it on the Nevarrans. _That_ makes it my war."

"Very perceptive, my handsome and virile Warden-Commander Alistair." The lilt of the male Antivan voice made Alistair spin toward the storeroom door while Alman pulled his sword.

"Zevran?!" Alistair might have broken out in a smile if he hadn't been so completely flabbergasted. "What are you doing here!?"

"You know this elf?" Alman said, failing to hide his distaste. Alistair didn't know if the distaste was due to Zevran being an elf, a male, an Antivan, a friend of Alistair … or all of those things. But, Alman did sheathe his sword.

"Are you glad to see us, Alistair?" Leliana stepped around Zevran.

Alistair just hugged her while she giggled. "How did you get in here?" he asked both of them.

Alman answered. "There is a tunnel system below Jader that is used by the bards. One of the exits is in my storeroom." He raised an eyebrow. "I must have moved the crate covering the trapdoor and failed to replace it."

Feeling that there was more to that story, but not wanting to know, really, Alistair then turned to Alman, all traces of merriment gone from his face. "I will be getting my things and leaving now with Leliana and Zevran through this secret tunnel. As soon as we can get the Queen out of Jader, I will wish Nevarra all good fortune with their invasion."

It took only moments for Alistair to run and grab his already packed gear. As soon as he descended the ladder from the trap door with Leliana and Zevran, they all heard Alman shove some crates over the door.

Once a little way down the tunnel, Alistair stopped them. "I have an audience with Anora in a little while." At Zev's and Leliana's surprised looks, he asked, "You're here to rescue her, aren't you?"

Leliana laughed as Zev answered. "Yes, my friend, and we were just commiserating about how we would go about that. Leliana, my dear, where do these tunnels have an exit in the palace?"

"Hmm, the question is which one? There are at least seven that I can think of. Let's see … probably not in the throne room or the royal chambers or the armory or the baths…"

"There's a spy door to the baths?" Alistair was aghast.

"Oh yes! Drowning was a very popular form of assassination for a while," Leliana explained. Alistair was having a hard time wrapping his head around this open and matter-of-fact Bard Leliana.

"Very easy to make them look like they suffered a slipping accident," Zevran further explained. Such talk he expected from Zevran.

After chuckling at Alistair's reaction, Leliana continued, "There is an exit in the nursery … used for hiding the kidnapped children of contrary nobility." Alistair just shook his head. "They have one to a suite of guest quarters. This is a possibility." Then, she snapped her fingers. "No! The kitchens! There is a suite of rooms with access to the kitchens. They would keep Anora there."

"Why there over the other guest chambers?" Alistair didn't get all this stuff and hoped he never did.

Leliana and Zevran shared a sad glance. She explained, "The suite off the kitchens isn't called the 'Deadman's Excuse' for nothing. It would be easy enough to claim an assassin, dressed as kitchen staff, snuck his way in and killed Anora while under Orlesian protection."

Zevran leaned closer. "It would be an Orlesian bard or some other assassin, Alistair, but they would leave clues that a Nevarran or someone else did it. The setup is just a way to claim a weakness in the palace that isn't really a weakness."

"Loghain would never believe anyone but an Orlesian would kill Anora like that." Alistair hadn't said that name in weeks. It had been rattling around his head constantly, though, since Alman told Alistair he was going to be Loghain's commander.

Leliana paused. "Maybe Loghain would not believe the word of an Orlesian, but the other nobility in Ferelden might and Loghain is no longer part of that nobility."

"Don't remind me," Alistair mumbled and then sighed. "But, we don't have the time to debate the finer points of alternative plans. The Nevarrans are about to start a war here. Get me near the front of the palace and I can have my meeting with Anora."

"Yes, we need to hurry." Leliana started down the tunnels and Alistair followed. Zev was lost in the shadows, likely following them at some distance. Quietly, Leliana added, "Since they know you have an appointment with Anora … and likely know about your disagreeable departure from Ferelden because of Anora … they will be pinning Anora's murder on you, Alistair. Loghain would believe that."

A large knot formed in Alistair's stomach. Not so much from Leliana's assessment. More from the fact that Alistair realized how many people _would_ believe he could carry out the murder of Anora. At the very least, they would believe how he unwittingly set up his own trap.

"We will enter the palace through the kitchen storeroom exit and go to listen at the guest quarters' door." Leliana looked to Zevran who appeared out of the shadows and nodded in return. "If we hear your voice in the room, we will know it is the right one." She pulled out a stone below a lit torch and pulled out a small box from the recess. Inside it was parchment and ink. Leliana sat on the floor and wrote out a note.

It gave Alistair a moment to look around. The tunnels were well-maintained, dry and mostly dark. He wondered who came along and kept the torches lit … but really didn't want to know the answer. He just wanted to be gone from this place.

When she was finished, Leliana handed Alistair the note. "There are spy-holes throughout the palace, so Her Majesty is no doubt under constant watch. Try to carefully drop this into her lap. It explains what we are trying to do." After a pause, she added, "Don't get caught with it." Then, Leliana smiled at Alistair. "Just act normally, Alistair. Everything will work out fine."

They found Alistair an exit in a small alley near the palace. He exited, straightened his tabard and melded into the crowds in the street. After waiting a short time at the gate, he was escorted through the most opulent palace he'd ever seen. The green and tan stone floors were polished to a shine and the walls were covered with paintings and tapestries that looked very old and valuable. All the furniture was painted in whites, greens and golds. Alistair wondered if all the maids had emeralds in their belly-buttons. Anora's door had two guards on either side who looked like dangerous shiny statues. After such a confusing escort, Alistair knew he would never be able to find his way out … probably why they led him on such a lengthy and roundabout path.

His escort stopped and bowed. "Here is Her Majesty's suite, Warden-Commander. As was negotiated, you have one-half hour and I will come for you."

"Thank you," Alistair bowed in return. "I'm certain that will be enough time to inform Her Majesty of my appointment and pending departure for Ferelden next week." He prayed he didn't put too much emphasis on the "next week" lie. This sneaky business was just not his forte.

One of the dangerous shiny statues opened the door and Alistair stepped into a library. Anora was sitting on a chair, reading a book when he entered.

Anora seemed startled when she looked up, but quickly regained her composure. "Please leave us," she said to the shiny man who closed the door. After a long moment, she motioned to a chair across from hers. "You've let your hair grow, Alistair. It makes you look like your father."

And, right off, she caused his anger to rise. _It must be a talent of hers_, he mused. As Leliana had coached him, he stepped up to Anora's chair and bowed, dropping a small note into her lap. "I don't trust the barbers here in Jader." Then, he went to sit in the chair. "I am here to formally let you know that I have been appointed the new Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I shall be leaving for Ferelden by the end of the week." He watched Anora skillfully slip the note inside the book, open it and read the note as if she were reading a page of the book. Alistair took a deep breath and continued so she could finish the note. "I know I left Ferelden under questionable circumstances, but I have had time to rethink my hasty departure. The Wardens have given me a chance at redemption and I hope that you will as well … Your Majesty."

Anora narrowed her eyes at Alistair and he now wished he'd read what Leliana had written on that note. "Alistair, your departure was more than questionable." She snapped the book shut and stepped to the fireplace. He barely caught a shadow of the note being dropped into the flames. "Most countries would call it treason. You left Ferelden with a Blight. To be honest, I'm surprised the wardens don't see it as desertion."

Alistair sighed and sat back in the chair. "I was, too. Perhaps making me go back and have to command the man I wanted to kill is my punishment."

The note had sufficiently turned to ash as she spun on him. "That man is my father! He may or may not have died when the Archdemon attacked Denerim … and where were you? Sitting in some tavern here getting drunk?" Before Alistair could answer, she marched into an adjoining room. "Follow me." She led him into her bedroom and then into her bathing room … all as opulent as the rest of the palace. "This is my world now, Alistair!" He heard the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the floor, but miraculously didn't look. "These three rooms! I'm fed and cared for but trapped in these three rooms! And, it's all your fault!"

Alistair didn't know how to answer that … insanity. Then, he caught Anora's raised eyebrow. She wanted him to argue with her! So, he did. He stepped closer as he saw Leliana and Zevran and an unconscious elf on the floor out of the corner of his eye. The bard and the Crow slipped into the shadows of the bedroom as the argument went on. "That's insane, Anora, and you know it. The city was overrun. From what I was told, the chevaliers rescued you from certain death … and where was your almighty father? The great Loghain? He was failing, Anora. He failed to keep chevaliers out of the city. He failed to realize that everything he did prior to the Archdemon's attack hurt Ferelden, not helped it. He failed to keep you from being threatened by darkspawn. But, you know the worst failure? He failed Thedas by letting the Archdemon live!"

She slapped him. Hard. No act there. "Sit!" she commanded as she pointed to a chair by the door to the kitchens. She looked around and picked up a jar. It looked like she was going to throw it at Alistair … and he did duck … but it landed on an ornate painting of balloons. However, when Alistair viewed it from his vantage of below and to the side, he saw it … a small hole which Anora had just filled with a foul-smelling black viscous cream. "I need to practice my aim."

Alistair did a double-take with the cream. He knew that would keep them from seeing what was going on but they could still hear. "Look, Your Majesty, I came here to get written permission to re-enter Ferelden. You didn't exactly tell me I couldn't go back."

"No, I said that you had to swear not to harm me or my heirs." Leliana and Zevran finished whatever they did in the other rooms and were watching with rapt attention at the door to the kitchens.

Alistair sighed. "I so swear, Queen Anora of Ferelden, that I will never threaten you, your heirs or the crown of Ferelden. I will never foment insurrection or lead armies against you. I just want to do the best I can to lead the Ferelden Grey Wardens."

Anora paced, each pass getting closer to the door to the kitchens. "Keep sitting there while I compose that permission letter." But, she didn't. She left with Zevran and Leliana, who pressed a rolled letter in his hands. He hoped it would be good enough to get him out of the damned palace. He marched back through the bedroom and noticed that either the bard or the Crow had made it look like Anora was asleep in the bed. Then, he went into the library and beat on the door until they opened it. "Her Majesty is now taking a nap," he grumbled. "Doing her duty with one of her countrymen tired her out, I guess."

The escort from earlier was there in a few minutes to show Alistair out of the palace. That was the longest, most stressful walk he'd taken in a long time. Every screech of a chair, every slam of a door, every laugh or cough set Alistair's nerves on edge. But, he made it out of the grand front doors. On his way out of the gate, he heard his name being yelled from inside. Fortunately, the guards were busy laughing at some joke or other and didn't realize the yelled name was his.

He lengthened his stride to the street and had to force himself not to run. He made it outside the palace walls and into a crush of people going about their business. He almost missed the alley to the tunnel entrance, but managed to slip around the corner and hide behind a stack of crates just as the horns of the chevaliers sounded to clear the streets. He had to move quickly or lose his cover from the crowds of people. Just as he slid down the brick wall to edge to the end of the alley, the trapdoor opened a crack and Zevran beckoned him to wait a moment. After whatever reason for the delay passed by, the elf waved him to hurry to the trapdoor.

No words were exchanged as Alistair dropped down into the tunnels and started running in the direction that Leliana was taking them. He had no concept of direction along the darkened narrow passageways. He did notice that Anora had changed out of her fancy dress into an ill-fitting set of leather armor with a leather cap covering her hair. Zev threw a cloak over Alistair's shoulders and pulled the hood over his head as they made their way toward the exit to get clear of the city's walls. They could hear voices behind them in the tunnels. Fortunately, Leliana knew ways to lose them in the maze.

Of course, no escape attempt ever went smoothly in Alistair's experience. They ran into a crowd of Nevarrans who must have been getting ready to infiltrate key parts of Jader in advance of their invasion of the city. Alistair marveled at Leliana's perfect Nevarran accent as she explained something to them. It must have been good because the Nevarrans all patted Alistair on the back. They smiled and one whispered, "Well done." He only nodded back and pressed on with the bard. Alistair wasn't sure he wanted to know what she told them.

At last, they made it to the exit and out into the night. There were already patrols along the main road, so they angled toward the cliffs. The way was far from easy. And, they weren't alone. Just as they slid down the cliffs to await the rendezvous boat, they were met with a group of men who were also trying to hide from the patrols. These men didn't want anyone to survive to tell the patrols that they were there. Alistair pushed Anora down behind a rock as an arrow found its way into the back of his shoulder instead of into Anora. "Arrrrgh, stay down," he told her through clenched teeth.

Leliana made easy work of the archer, but a fireball put the Orlesian bard out of the action for a few minutes while she fumbled for a poultice. "They have a mage!" she screeched.

Alistair turned and had to spend too much precious time locating the mage. A chain of lightning soon ricocheted between Alistair and Zevran. However, it pinpointed the location of the caster. With a shout, Alistair centered his strongest smite on the mage. She went down like a sack of rocks in an earthquake. Zevran ran up and finished her. Alistair had wondered where the Crow had gotten to.

That just left three men. Guard types accustomed to swinging those swords which were as long as they were tall. There wasn't time to reach for a poultice for his shoulder, so Alistair just waded into the fray, knocking all of them down with his well-trained war cry. Zev took out one easily enough, but that made him a target for one of the other two. Alistair bashed him and got his attention back. Duncan's shield took a number of blows as Alistair danced defensively. Zevran backstabbed the one on Alistair's right. He must have been using a strong poison on his dagger because Alistair could sense the abrupt change in the man's ability. Two left. Unfortunately, the wide swing of the one on Alistair's left caught Zevran on his hip. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it would hamper Zevran's ability to get out of the way.

"Alistair! Watch out!" Anora's shout heightened Alistair's awareness and he managed to dodge a swing that would have taken off his weapon arm for certain. _Maker!_ he chastised himself. _I'm already out of practice in these overwhelming, life-and-death, no-way-to-win fights._

The two remaining attackers were wearing Alistair down too quickly. He went into "automatic" as he had to do so many times while traveling with Kayda. Forget any pain. Forget anything other than the two brutes who wanted to kill him. Alistair focused on staying up and alive and ignored the pain of any strikes that got through his armor. He focused on the vulnerable Queen of Ferelden … on Anora. He had gone too far to let her be killed by thugs. He didn't even take the time to pray that Leliana and Zevran would come back and finish off the two in front of him somehow. Stay up. Stay alive. Taunt and defend.

And then, somehow, the two bastards were dead at his feet. Alistair looked up at Zevran who was looking in horror at Alistair's waist. Alistair didn't even get to look down. The light winked out. He didn't feel the sand come up to meet him or hear Leliana and Anora shout as they ran up. Alistair said something, but it didn't register in his memory.

* * *

"Finally," Flemeth said under her breath as she sat back and away from the greyish-green vapors. She was speaking to herself since Morrigan had long ago gone to bed. "All it took was a pair of human eyes that had seen you to find you, boy. Convenient of the Orlesians to provide a pair for me."

In her own mind, the old witch was pleased. She had just seen Alistair running away from Jader toward a waiting ship. His friends would make certain he survived his injuries. He would soon be on his way back to Ferelden as the new Warden-Commander. He had grown up in the short time he'd been gone but he really no longer figured into Flemeth's plans. She just liked to keep tabs on Maric's boy, information she could use with Maric to keep him in line.

At this point, Flemeth had no idea where the Archdemon would show itself again. She had already prepared the ritual for Alistair, collecting all the needed blood while he was unconscious after Ostagar. Unfortunately, Morrigan's caustic personality had all but guaranteed that Alistair would have nothing to do with her, no matter who inhabited that body.

So, the ritual would need to be adjusted, made less specific as to subject, even though that might make its effectiveness less assured. Since Flemeth would be taking over Morrigan's body, it would definitely work out better if Alistair were not the Grey Warden to kill the Archdemon. She would have a chance to entice someone who had never met Morrigan.

Curiously however, her foresight still favored Alistair heavily as the one who would make the killing blow. And, he might, since Flemeth had no idea where the Archdemon would reappear yet.

The Archdemon's vessel went back to the place where it was most familiar: the Dead Trenches near Bownamar. So, either it would be directed to leave and seek out another dragon or it would stay there, protected by tens of thousands of darkspawn, to eventually shapechange into a new twisted and tainted dragon. Flemeth knew she'd have to keep an eye on that possessed hurlock.

She looked toward her hut and narrowed her eyes. Morrigan knew that Flemeth extended her life by possessing a daughter's body. She'd found the Black Grimoire in the Circle Tower after all. Why else would Morrigan have sent Cousland and her merry band of misfits to kill the old woman?

Flemeth knew Morrigan was only here to become more powerful in order to kill the old witch herself. But, Flemeth already knew how that would turn out. She smiled. Morrigan would put on the new highly enchanted attire whenever Flemeth deemed her ready or … Morrigan would kill Flemeth. Either way would trigger the possession.

* * *

**AN**: Thank you to all reviews, favorites and follows!

Have a great week! See you next Sunday! :)


	10. New Fereldens, Old Friends

**New Fereldens, Old Friends**

Across the Waking Sea, Kirkwall got word that the Archdemon wasn't killed when it attacked Denerim and that it would show up again in a few months to a couple of years. Varric thought that such a long span of time made things a bit uncertain. The Ferelden Grey Wardens had botched the job, so, now it was anybody's guess where the Archdemon would pop up next.

"Sounds like there's not much of Ferelden left to interest the Archdemon anymore, so it could turn up here." Varric snickered at the drunk who said that. He was listening to the conversation at a nearby table because listening to Fenris go on about Tevinter again was boring. All the women swooned over the elf's sexy voice. Too bad that voice's subject matter was so predictable. The drunk went on to add, "Yeah, it could bust through the ground right here under the Hanged Man."

Varric punched the guy in the shoulder. "Nothing here for the Archdemon, either, Monroe." The dwarf nodded toward the entry door. "Why doncha' head home and leave the storytelling to those of us who know how to do it."

Carver sneered. "I dunno. I thought his storytelling was quite suspenseful."

"You would, Little Hawke." Carver's angry glare made Varric laugh.

Fenris threw down his hand and stood. "Good night. I'll meet you all at the city gate tomorrow morning."

"Aw, don't to away mad, Broody. It's just that word about the Blight is pretty much affecting everyone, so I listen when someone mentions the word," Varric lied.

"It's late anyway and I want to be ready to go after those mercenaries for that guy in the Chantry." He nodded and left.

Mason Hawke kept looking at his hand and then the stack of coin in the center of the table and then back to his hand. Then, he shoved in his own stack of sovereigns. Everyone folded and Mason's mabari, Tripper, barked his approval. The round finished and Hawke swept the pot into his pouch and grinned. "Love it when you guys distract Varric for me." He handed the two drunks at the nearby table a sovereign apiece. "I'll pay Fenris tomorrow."

"Ya know, Hawke, some would call for satisfaction after being cheated like that." Varric put his winning hand, face-down into the middle of the card stack. Hawke had few enough reasons to smile lately.

Carver groaned. "Please don't encourage him."

Varric was about to grouse about Carver's picking on his older brother when he noticed an armored man and woman enter the bar. They were wearing livery of what he thought was the Ferelden army. Varric leaned close to Mason and Carver. "You two take the dog and go up to my room now. Some Ferelden military just walked in and they're looking around. I'll find out why they're here."

Carver was a bit taller than Mason, but they were able to precede a tall guy and one of the wenches up the stairs, so Varric thought the Ferelden folk missed them. That was, until Varric saw Corff point to Varric's table and they started walking his way.

"Pardon us, but we were told that you know Mason and Carver Hawke. Is that true?" the woman asked.

Varric thought to himself, _Corff didn't say they were here. Good man. _"That's a long and involved story. Let me buy you both a drink. Have a seat." Varric noticed that the guy deferred to the woman, but they sat down. After drinks were ordered, Varric continued, "And, may I know who's asking about them?"

"My name is Ser Cauthrien and this is Lieutenant Cargan of the Ferelden army. We are not here to bring in deserters, but we are here to bring some of the refugees home, especially those who can use a weapon along. Of course, their families are also welcome to return with us." Nora put the drinks on the table. "The Hawke family was on a manifest of one of the ships we inspected and Cargan here recognized their name."

"And, of course, at the docks they told you to come to the Hanged Man to start asking around?" Varric laughed.

Cargan smiled. "Actually, they told us to come to the Hanged Man and speak with you, Varric."

Varric took a drink. "Why are you looking for the Hawke boys … and yeah, I know of 'em. They had signed on to help me and my brother on an expedition into the Deep Roads, but since the darkspawn are heading back underground at the moment, we've postponed it."

Cauthrien sighed. "Our country is in turmoil, Varric. We need every able-bodied soldier we can get to establish order. That's why we're going to the cities where people fled to escape the Blight. Do you know where we can find them? Please, we only want to talk to them."

Varric's thoughts were whirling. The Blight was technically gone in Ferelden, at least for a while, if his warden contact was being honest with him. Work was beginning to dry up here in Kirkwall and Varric had the feeling that Broody could stand to get away for a while. The hitch was Hawke's mother and sister.

In reality, Carver and Mason _did_ desert. It was a story that Mason told Varric one night. It had been a bad week. Mason was drunk and depressed about the family living with his mother's bankrupt brother, Gamlen. Varric had to swear not to tell … at least, until the Blight was over.

The soldiers at Ostagar had witnessed too many arguments among the nobles and the king's confidence in their strength rang hollow. It made everyone uneasy. Mason and Carver were sent out with an ill-organized scouting mission led by Bann Loren. Early on, Carver had been sent back to Ostagar to get aid for a serious injury. The bann "volunteered" to go back with the injured. The rest of the scout group was almost all the way back to Ostagar when a group of darkspawn with an emissary attacked. Mason was the only one left breathing after the battle, but he was losing blood fast. He barely made it back to camp. It took a week for Mason and Carver to be back on their feet. But, they heard things while they lay in the open-air infirmary.

When Mason overheard a rumor that General Loghain was fed up and close to pulling his men from Ostagar, Mason stormed to his bivouac, grabbed something out of his chest and headed to a storage tent. When Carver followed and saw Mason looking over a map he'd stolen, he knew they were leaving. After Mason pointed out the likely path the darkspawn would take after Ostagar fell, Carver agreed without an argument. Time to gather up the family and head north. From what they heard later, Ostagar fell shortly after they deserted … just before the Hawke family took ship to Kirkwall.

So, Varric worried a bit about telling these Fereldens where the boys were. "Look, I'm not sure where they are right now, but I'll ask around. Which ship are you staying on?"

Cauthrien left their information, finished her ale and the pair headed out. Varric waited a while and then headed out himself, giving Corff a message to pass on to the Hawkes to stay put for the evening. Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cauthrien and Cargan waiting around a corner. Varric headed up the stairs to Hightown, and they followed him.

An arrow flew past Varric's head as he reached the top of the stairs. "Here we go, Bianca," Varric said as he pulled his crossbow and ducked behind a barrel. He was surprised that the Ferelden soldiers came to help. In short order, the six or so attackers were lying dead.

"Why are your city guardsmen attacking on sight?" Cauthrien hadn't sheathed her sword yet and she looked really angry. Varric knew then he'd never want to be on the bad side of this woman.

Varric locked Bianca and stowed her away. "They're not. See?" Varric picked up one of the shields and peeled off a makeshift emblem. "There's an organized group here that dress up like …"

"Halt, beware that …" A real guard ran up. "I see you've already taken care of them for us." The guard took a pouch from his belt and threw it to Varric. "Thank you, Varric. New companions tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, Donnic. Pretty good in a fight, eh?" Varric surreptitiously shook his head slowly at Donnic and hoped he got it. "Hey, you seen the Hawke boys lately?"

Donnic was pretty smart. "Not for a while. Want me to keep an eye out for them?"

"Please, and let me know. Some folks are looking for them. I can get word to the ones looking." Varric winked at Donnic as he opened the pouch. "And, thanks for the appreciation!"

Donnic nodded and went back on his patrol. Twelve sovereigns in the bag. He handed four each to Cauthrien and Cargan. At first they declined, but Varric insisted. "Hey, the guard doesn't always pay, sometimes the bastards just stand there and watch. You earned this."

For the first time, Cauthrien smiled a little as she sheathed her sword. "Thank you. We'll head back to the ship now." They turned to go and Cauthrien turned back. "By the way, have you ever heard of Alistair Theirin?"

_Yeah_, Varric thought to himself, _I've heard of the bastard son of Maric the Savior,_ but he only scratched his head. "Nope, but I'll ask around about him too if you want."

They looked at each other. Cargan answered. "That's not necessary." He grinned. "I suspect if you've not seen him, he isn't here."

Varric laughed. "Yeah, I try to keep my eyes and ears open."

They waved and headed back down the stairs. Alistair Theirin, royal bastard and Grey Warden, wasn't in Ferelden anymore? There was definitely a story there! Nothing exciting was going on in Kirkwall and the expedition was stalled until the Blight was over, so Varric went where the stories were.

He headed back to the Hanged Man and explained what had just happened. Curiously, it was Carver who convinced Mason that they needed to go back. They needed to get their mother Leandra away from her sleezy brother … as well as get their mage sister Bethany far, far away from Knight-Commander Meredith and the most oppressive Circle of Magi in Thedas. Fenris didn't want to leave Danarius' mansion in case his old master returned. Mason mentioned that Ferelden was the perfect place to get lost in. Mason used the hatred of slavers in Ferelden and convinced Broody to come along.

Varric kept to himself the rumors he'd heard about Loghain selling elves to Tevinter slavers to pay for his military. _Surely they wouldn't run into the new Warden Loghain. Ferelden's a big country, right?_ Varric rationalized to himself.

By the end of the week, the Hawke brothers — along with their mother Leandra and sister Bethany — Varric, Fenris, and a whole bunch of other Ferelden refugees were on their way to Denerim, gratis the Ferelden military.

The voyage started out with high spirits and optimism about what might lie ahead in Ferelden; however, once under way, they all became aware of a Templar on board. Mason rallied everyone to protect Bethany and keep her from the Templar's notice. However, during a storm, Fenris was slashed pretty badly on a hook as he slid across the deck. Without thinking, Bethany healed the cut. Everyone got silent as they realized Irminric was standing behind her. Mason tried to work his charm and Varric attempted to rationalize with the Templar, but he was resolute that Bethany needed to be taken to the Circle once they docked.

Fortunately, Irminric wasn't and asshole and didn't try to keep Bethany away from her family, but he was always present. Surprisingly, Bethany wasn't upset at all. The poor girl had always felt guilty that her magic kept the family on the run. She and Irminric spoke about the Circle in Ferelden. He confirmed the rumors about the Circle falling to abominations even though he was trapped in a prison by that time. Varric tapped him for his story, and even Mason felt pity for the Templar. Loghain Mac Tir _stole_ a captured _blood_ mage from the Templar and then, that blood mage ended up poisoning Arl Eamon Guerrin, brother to Queen Rowan! Once that tale was permanently etched into Varric's head, he found out that Ser Cauthrien was Loghain's second officer and leader of Maric's Shield!

Varric wasn't a religious dwarf, but he gave thanks to the Maker to be on this particular ship. He would barely have enough time to get all his thoughts down on parchment before they landed in Denerim in a few days!

* * *

This waiting game was driving Fergus insane! He got a letter from Loghain. No reinforcements were available, but ships had been sent out to repatriate refugees. Fergus had to be careful not to call them deserters. The men they would round up were deserters to Fergus' mind, but Ferelden needed everyone they could get … and, to be fair, the darkspawn and their festering taint was a lot scarier sort of monster than even the Orlesians.

The scouting reports were coming in from all parts of the terynir. Feravel Plains had been spared the horde, only to fall to the massing darkspawn in the north. It was grim to consider, but one thing was in Ferelden's favor: these chevaliers had no idea how to fight darkspawn, not that Fergus knew much more. In an darkspawn attack not too long ago, Vigil's Keep lost a full third of the company of chevaliers stationed there. No sighting of Orlesian reinforcements coming for them, either … so far. Because of that, it was likely that the Vigil would be the first target to retake for Ferelden.

And Redcliffe had been taken by chevaliers as well … chevaliers who were enemies of Empress Celene. Other than the mention of Queen Anora's abduction by the Orlesians, no more information than that was in Loghain's missive. He wondered how Eamon Guerrin _lost_ Redcliffe Castle. The man was a skilled debater, but a horribly awful military leader. Pity Rendorn Guerrin didn't impart some of that tactical mindset to his eldest son. Someone with a military mind needed to take over that post. Even Eamon's younger brother Teagan would have been better. But first, the Fereldens would need to succeed in ousting these Orlesians who apparently looked to Ferelden as a free range to fight out their differences without marring their precious Orlesian landscapes.

A chuckle brought Fergus out of his reverie. "You look like you have a headache … or like you're constipated." Anders was always around somehow with a quip or barb.

"A good description … the Orlesians are a pain in the ass whose actions are giving me a headache." Fergus allowed himself a smile. "Or, vice versa."

"Your Grace!" Ser Nathan ran up to Fergus' outside strategy table. After catching his breath, he reported, "The chevaliers know about the tunnel off the larder now."

"Damn." Fergus threw down the parchment he was reading. "That puts Ines in danger. Is there any way to get her out of there?"

Nathan's face looked grim. "No, Your Grace." He paused as if his next words would strangle him. "Her … her body is hanging by the front gate."

Fergus found himself at a loss for words. The seething anger in his belly choked off the air he needed to breathe. Ines had been a servant of Highever. She survived the sacking of the castle and the murders of everyone else by being smart. She knew all the hiding places in the castle and all the secret rooms and tunnels. Ines was alive just last night when she handed her report to Fergus himself at the larder tunnel door. They must have caught her replacing the sacks of flour. If they already killed her, then they foolishly didn't take the time to question her. Fergus knew it would have taken days to torture the information out of such a strong woman. He took a deep breath. While he'd been thinking, Famar and Will walked up, their faces red with anger. He turned to his trusted lieutenants. "She will be avenged for her bravery. If they threw her away like so much refuse, then they failed to get anything out of her beyond that tunnel." He turned to Will. "Gilgan, take some men and collapse this end of the tunnel. Go as far in as you can."

"It's half-collapsing already, take out a few support beams and it'll be closed for good." He nodded and left.

Famar leaned on the table. "She was our main source of information inside the castle, Your Grace … and she was a good Ferelden. We need to find another way to put someone inside."

"Perhaps I know of a way." The unfamiliar Nevarran accent made everyone around the camp pull their swords, but stay any attack for the moment.

Fergus swung around and then laughed. "Anton Pentaghast! Only you could sneak your way this far into my camp."

Anton was a wiry man, handsome, a bit stooped due to a back injury, shoulder-length salt and pepper hair, scruffy beard and tanned complexion. His black leather armor was well-worn but supple, making no sound as he moved. He walked up to Fergus and put his hands on Fergus' shoulders. "We only just got word about the tragedy here, my old friend. I always thought Howe was a devil. And then, to be usurped by the swine chevaliers. We were all distressed to hear such news."

"Thank you. I'm trying to delay my grieving until after we rout these bastards." Fergus frowned. "So, what are you doing here and what news do you bring?"

Anton combined a deep breath with a long sigh. "King Markus is dead and Ferdinand abdicated." His face reddened. "Old Ferdinand couldn't allow things like duty to get in the way of his hunts."

"So, there's no one on the throne of Nevarra?" Fergus was surprised but not totally shocked. Nevarra's leadership had been teetering for a while.

The Nevarran shook his head. "As you know, my mother died a few years ago. My father married Armella Van Markam in a seemingly innocuous ceremony. Just as we did in years past, a Pentaghast married a Van Markam to insure succession. The agreement was done in secret. The negotiations were done behind the backs of the Mortalitasi who had gained way too much influence over the throne. At Markus' entombment, my father stepped forward and took over the rule with little argument."

"So, it's _Prince_ Anton now, eh?" Fergus laughed.

"What are the Mortalitasi?" Famar asked.

Anton spit on the ground next to him. "They are creatures of the Void, a death magic cult, in my opinion … mages who officiate our Grand Necropolis and mummify the elite. They have corrupted our ancient burial ceremonies and influenced the rule of Nevarra for too long. We finally have a strong Grand Enchanter in Cumberland who can resist their magic. Fiona has pledged to my father to put up wards around the castle and enchant items that he wears at all times against their foul magic. The new Divine is sending Seekers to gather them up, split them apart and place them in various Circles around Thedas."

Anders snickered. "Good luck with that. I read about the Mortalitasi. They'll just fade into the shadows and seem to disappear until they pop up later … like gas from eating too many of Famar's beans."

"Thank the Maker you didn't arrive yesterday," Fergus told Anton in a loud aside. Then, after the laughter from the nearby men died down, he added, "That's a lot of change at one time, Anton. How stable is Nevarra now?"

"Heh, I haven't told you the best part! Nevarran forces are also taking Jader as we speak." Anton's grin faded as he looked around the group of apprehensive faces. "I assure you that does not mean any ill will toward Ferelden."

Fergus shook his head. "No, that's not why we're concerned, Anton. We recently found out that our Queen Anora was kidnapped by the Orlesians and taken to Jader. We've gotten no other word about her status."

"I have news about that as well, Fergus." Anton's smile returned. "We already had scouts in the city who kept us informed before our launch from Cumberland. The Orlesians were bragging all over Jader about helping the poor Ferelden monarch, saving her from the darkspawn and the inept protection of the Ferelden wardens and military. So, we had a group of our stealthiest ready to rescue your queen when what did we discover? She had already been rescued by two of Ferelden's stealthiest and a Grey Warden. We found out later he was to be Ferelden's new Commander of the Grey. With the Maker's grace, they got out of the city and she is aboard a ship bound for Denerim right now."

A collected sigh of relief traveled around the nearby men and women. "You bring us the best news yet, Anton. Now, tell me this idea to get someone inside …"

Fergus was interrupted by Gilmore, running up and out of breath. "Your … Your Grace, we just spotted Isolde Guerrin and a group of Redcliffe men and servants riding up to the Highever gates."

"Doesn't the fool woman know it's been taken?! Did you try to stop her?" Fergus was looking around for his helm, just as everyone was reaching to re-armor and get ready to attempt a rescue.

Gilmore's hand on Fergus arm stopped him. "We were about to break cover to run up to her when the gates opened and a chevalier rode out to meet her." Roddy waited until he had everyone's attention. "The chevalier got off his horse and took a knee in front of the Arlessa. Then, an escort rode out and they ceremoniously led her inside as if she were lady of the castle."

The camp became still as a summer morning with no breeze, only a hint of the blazing heat to come. Nathan voiced the one word that had come to everyone's mind. "Traitor."

"Well, now we know how Redcliffe fell so easily." Fergus spun toward Anton. "We must get someone inside."

Anton nodded. "Hear me out before you throw me out of your camp. During our many campaigns against the Orlesian nobility, we have met many of their poor … displaced landholders, mistreated servants and the like. These are invisible to the nobility's and the chevaliers' eyes … and so, they are the Orlesians' weakness. I have three such with me. They have served Nevarra well in Jader, but had to flee before the attack. I believe they can be your eyes and ears."

"It's so hard to trust anyone with an Orlesian accent, Anton." Fergus sighed and sat on a crate which served as a chair. He looked around at the people surrounding him. "We will need to meet them." He stood. "Join our camp with the three you mention." He turned to Gilmore. "I don't want them to feel ill at ease, but I need to know what you men think. So, speak with them. Ask them questions and try to swallow your biases … as I will also promise to do. Perhaps, we can get them inside tomorrow with the restock delivery for Highever castle."

After everyone nearby nodded, Fergus turned to Anton with a bit of a grin. "So, Your Highness, would you like to join me in my tent or do you have your own pavilion with servants and guards?"

"Cheeky bastard," Anton mumbled, but then laughed. "Even after all this, you still can joke. This is good." He stretched his back as much as he could with the lingering effects of his injury. "Your tent should suffice … Your Grace … as I have been sleeping in the open for much too long."

Fergus watched his old friend walk away with Gilmore and Famar. They would see to their potential Orlesian spies … or rather, Ferelden spies who were Orlesian. Fergus sat again and looked up to the sky, clear blue with a few puffy white clouds. He spoke to his father in his mind. _I know you are at the Maker's side, Father. Better there then here, I think. Watching all you worked for crumble before your eyes. Is this cycle all we have to look forward to … occupation, freedom, our own misjudgments causing civil war and paranoia, Blight?_

He paused and smiled as he thought he heard his father's laughter which lightened his despondency and answered his own question. Of course, the cycle would continue for that was the way of things. To create problems and chaos. To solve the problems and regain order … for a time. Then, Fergus remembered something his little sister once told him after a considerable spell of knight squabbles in Highever, "What? You want everyone to be happy and think as you do? How boring, Fergus!" He also prayed that Kayda was all right and that he would be able to see her soon.

* * *

**AN**: Thank you for all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

_Pervinca T_, thank you for your review! :) Well, Loghain did make his bed. It's a good thing he's opening his eyes a bit, yes? I wonder if Alistair will open his eyes as well? ;) And, I apologize that I left you hanging on that cliff for one more week. Maybe we'll find out what happened to Alistair next week? Maybe not? ;)

_Sironblood1_, such nice things you say! Thank you! :) This has been a fun whirl into a new story and I'm glad you're enjoying it with me. :)


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